


NASCARFic 100

by mickmess



Series: NASCARFic100 [1]
Category: NASCAR RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Fluff, Long-Term Relationship(s), M/M, NASCAR, Oral Sex, RPF, Sexual Situations, Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-20
Updated: 2014-11-20
Packaged: 2018-02-26 09:57:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 40,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2647712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mickmess/pseuds/mickmess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I'm currently working on moving all of my old works over from LJ and the website they were previously hosted at. Please bear with me as it's a tedious process. These works were all written anywhere from 2005 to the present. I'll make sure I put the completed date at the beginning of every work, so that you know where they fall in the timeline.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Looking Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: 01 - Beginnings  
> Completed: Circa 2005
> 
> Jimmie looks back on how he and Junior got their start.

I can remember the first time I kissed him. I knew from that moment on, it was either the beginning of something with the potential to be amazing, or it was the ending of one of the best friendships I ever had. We were sitting there on the coach, watching some stupid music video and drinking some beer. Well…he was drinking beer. I was playing with the label on an empty bottle. The conversation had long since died off and there was this comfortable silence between us, as usual. He’s not much on words and I tend to talk too much so I constantly have to put forth the effort to keep quiet. It’s in those silences that my brain starts to set in motion. On this particular occasion, my brain told me it’d be a good idea to glance at him out of the corner of my eye and admire him. The way his lips wrapped around the head of the bottle, the way his neck moved as he swallowed down the beer, the way he tilted his head back to get the very last drop out.

Up until that moment, I’d never wanted a man so much in my life. I’d always known I was gay, but I did everything I could to hide it. Knowing how people talked about Jeff, even knowing full well that he was straight, I was afraid to see the outcome of me coming out for real. So I hid it away and dated women. At that particular time, I was between relationships. Jessica had just dumped me like a bad habit and Chandra had yet to come back into the picture. I hadn’t had sex in what seemed like forever and my body was screaming with desire for the man sitting next to me.

I’d always admired Dale. I can still remember the first time I met him, back when I was running the Busch series for the first time, before I was even with HMS. We’d bumped into each other, literally, in the middle of the garage and had stopped to talk for a moment. He was so much younger then, with that ridiculous bleach job on his head. I’d spent much of the five minute conversation with my eyes glued to his, taking in the way his impossibly bright blue eyes sparkled in the midafternoon sun. When we’d parted, I couldn’t help but watch as he walked away, his hips swaying a bit so his adorable bubble butt shifted under his fire suit. 

We’d become friends slowly over time. It started out as random small talk here and there in passing. Slowly, with the help of Jeff, I got to know him better. Jeff was close with his father, which in turn caused a friendship between the two. Being Jeff’s work-in-progress, it wasn’t long before I was being invited to the parties and barbeques Junior was notorious for. We spent more and more time together, getting to know each other better with each passing day. It wasn’t long before my feelings of friendship developed into something far more deep.

Having feelings for another man wasn’t alien to me. There were plenty of guys I’d been attracted to before him, but never had the feelings been so strong. I couldn’t push this one aside, I couldn’t seem to stop thinking about him that way. Every time I was around him all I wanted to do was touch him. If we were sitting next to each other, it took all my strength not to take his hand in mine or press our legs together. If we were standing and talking, I had to put my hands in my pockets so I wouldn’t start grabbing his shoulder or doing something seemingly flirtatious. The more I fought it, though, the harder it got to keep it all down.

And that’s how it finally happened. We were in Daytona, my rookie season in the cup series. It was the night before the 500, and I’d just started in my first Busch series race. I wasn’t with HMS yet, but Jeff had already started taking in interest in me, so he’d hung around to watch. After talking for a while, Junior intercepted me on my way to my coach and asked if I’d be up for some beers. I’d agreed, letting him know I just wanted to get a shower before I stopped by. My heart had been racing as I made my way back to my coach. Butterflies formed in my stomach as I showered and dressed and as I walked back to Dale’s coach, I knew that it had to be the night of action. I couldn’t suppress my feelings for him anymore. More than a year of repressed emotions had taken a toll on me and I needed to know once and for all if anything could ever come of it.

It’d just been the two of us that night, which I took as a sign that things were in my favor. I’d waited nearly an hour, small talking, watching TV, trying not to come off too jittery. Finally managing to gather up the last of my confidence, I’d turned to him as I scooted in a little closer. He was too preoccupied with the half naked girls on the screen to notice, so I leaned in a bit further, so that our arms were pressed together. He’d shifted only the tiniest bit, never taking his eyes off the screen. I slid my hand over, resting it on his thigh, noting how his muscles tensed ever so slightly. He’d tore his gaze from the screen to give me a questioning glance, but said not a word. An eyebrow arched slightly was the only bit of recognition I received before he returned his attention to the show.

With a new wave of confidence, I’d scooted over onto his lap. That quickly got his attention, but before he could get a word in, I’d leaned in and kissed him. Tentatively, I’d pressed my lips to his, my hands shaking as they rested on his shoulders. He’d resisted at first, fisting my shirt as he pushed me back, tilting his head away in protest. I hadn’t let up easily though, moving with him so I could kiss him again, harder the second time. After a moment he seemed to give up, to give in. His lips parted against mine and tongues slid out hesitantly, meeting halfway. We’d stayed like that for several minutes, slowly exploring one another’s mouths, tongues brushing lazily against one another as hands roamed over thinly clothed bodies.

The leisurely kissing slowly turned into a heated make out session and before I knew it, he’d taken charge of the situation. He’d moved us around so I was straddling his lap, his hands roaming along my back. I’d gasped slightly as they’d moved down to my ass, slipping into my back pockets. My body jerked instinctively and I ground myself against him, eliciting the sexiest moan I’d ever heard in my life. He’d lifted his hips up to meet mine and my body lit on fire. This was not at all what I’d been expecting, not from Junior. I was expecting to get decked across the face, thrown out on my ass, called a dirty faggot or some other derogatory term.

Unfortunately for the two of us, a knock on the door had stopped us dead in our tracks. He’d tossed me off his lap quickly and jumped up, adjusting himself as he made his way to the door. When he pulled it open, it’d been his father on the other side, and I could see the bright shade of red appear on his face. Senior hadn’t suspected a thing, thank god, because had he figured out what we’d been doing I was pretty sure that would have been our first and last encounter.

Never in a million years did I think things would progress the way they did. I never suspected that night would be the beginning of something so beautiful. If someone had told me on that day that five years later we’d still be together, practically married, I would have laughed and told them it was wishful thinking. That night was the beginning of the rest of my life.


	2. Peaches and Creme

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 11: Red  
> COMPLETED: 09/10/08  
> The Chase media blitz is far from fun for Junior.

_New York City  
Chase Media Day_

 

If there's one thing I detest, it's being shoved in the spotlight. Being the center of attention always makes me nervous and uncomfortable. I'm shy and quiet by nature. I prefer being a part of the crowd, not the ringleader.

If there's one thing I hate, it's getting dressed up all fancy. Suits and ties make my skin crawl. I feel constricted and awkward. The fancy materials make my skin itch. The ties feel like nooses or leashes.

Put fancy clothes and a ton of media together and you have my worst nightmare. My heart pounds, my palms sweat, my vision blurs, and I stutter like Porky Pig. Not to mention my face rivals a tomato for deepest shade of red. I'm surprised I don’t break out in hives.

Being a part of this Chase media blitz suddenly reminds me why I was a little relieved at not making it last year. All of these cameras and lights make my head spin. New York City is overwhelming enough on its own, throwing in the paparazzi just makes it that much worse. I'm marveled by how well my fellow drivers deal with all this. They take it all in stride, especially my teammates. It's like they were born and bred to do this.

…I just wish Jimmie would've let me dress him this morning. He's wearing those ridiculous moccasin-looking things again and they clash with his slacks and the hideous shirt he insisted on wearing. For a gay man, he has NO fashion sense. At least his hair is decent, although I still wish he'da let me put some gel or something in it.

"Junior, you're doing it again!" A sharp elbow to my ribs jolts me out of my silent critique and I turn to glare at Kevin, who has made it his personal mission to be my keeper today. He gives me his best menacing glare, "Gonna out yourself if you don't stop drooling over your man, Junior. You know better."

"Don't need no fuckin' babysitter, Harvick," give him another glare of my own and speed up a bit, brushing by Kyle in the process. I don't spare him no mind, he don't deserve a beat of my heart, and come up alongside Jimmie. Jeff's been pulling the same act on him since Letterman last night and we're both fed up with our "bodyguards".

He sees me out of the corner of his eye and smiles in understanding, "Having fun yet, June?" His hand bumps against mine and to anyone looking it wouldn't raise any flags, just seem normal. To us, however, it's a small form of comfort. Anywhere else, we'd be holding hands right now. I hate having to pretend he's just a teammate when, really, he's my entire life. Has been for a long time.

"Thrill a minute, Peaches," smirk at the flush in his cheeks at my pet name for him and give him a playful wink, "Still don't know how I ended up with a friggin' cashmere sweater, though. Swear Mike does this shit just to watch me squirm." Glare playfully at my friend and publicist, "Jerk knows I hate to play dress up."

Jimmie's eyes twinkle with mischief, "Unless there's whips and chains involved, right?"

Mike scoffs and moves out of earshot of a conversation that, under normal circumstances, would get dirty in an instant. Instead, I shoot Jimmie a heated look and bump my hand against his again. He licks his lips and runs a hand through his hair before turning away. Another word or look from either of us and we'd be sneaking into a broom closet. As tempting as it is, we'd have too much a chance of getting caught.

"Junior! Junior, over here! Junior, I love you!"

Cringe and tense up when the shrieks of several excited women echo down the hall of the TV studio. Last thing I want right now is attention from a bunch of horny chicks. Jimmie takes a step away from me out of instinct, but it's pointless; Kev's already popped up at my side. Jeff's taken up stance beside Jimmie as well. Grit my teeth and shove my hands in my pockets; this is getting old.

Several studio execs come out to greet us and soon festivities are underway. Six of us get ushered into an open garage to practice some ridiculous ice cream tossing stunt. It's annoying and in moments I'm agitated again. My cashmere straight jacket is hot. Kyle's been put in my group and is quickly becoming an antagonist. Jimmie's here as well and being close to him with no contact hurts. We're tossing the ice cream all wrong but no one will listen. And then there's all the gawking onlookers. One more camera flash and I'm gonna throw the mother of all Diva fits.

"Duck!" A rogue ice cream scoop flies by my head and Kyle lets out a shriek of glee as Denny shoots me an apologetic look, grinning sheepishly, "Sorry Junior, got away from me."

Jackass. Completely fed up, I turn to Mike, wielding my scoop like a weapon, "This ain't how the Germans did it, god dammit!" Scoop up a nice amount of Vanilla and hurl it at the wall near his head. It hits with a satisfying wet noise and now all eyes are on me. Jimmie shakes his head in disapproval as Mike tries to make a joke out of my outburst. The reporters all scribble down notes and I can feel Kyle's gloat behind me. Fuckin' punk. 

It's nearly an hour before we film our crappy segment, another forty minutes before we meet Regis and Kelly, and it's close to thirty more minutes before we're all herded back to two waiting limos. I climb in after Kevin, Jimmie right on my tail. We all squeeze onto the seat behind the driver and wait for Burton, Jeff, and Clint to settle in. it's been like this all day; RCR and HMS Vs. the world. Chevy Drivers United.

"Fuckin' FINALLY!" I nearly elbow both my seatmates in the face as I yank off the ridiculous sweater, using it to wipe the makeup off my face. The cover up makes my skin tight and itchy; they call it a necessary evil. I call it crap. To my right, Jimmie makes a disapproving noise, echoed by Kevin to my left and Jeff across the car. They begin to lecture me about the cost of upkeep on such a fine piece of fabric, but one well-practiced Earnhardt glare shuts them all up. I've had about all I can take today, I don't need anymore from them.

"Babe…" Jimmie puts a hand on my arm to calm me down, but there's nothing he can do right now to soothe me.

"What?" I snap, tugging my arm from his grip.

"Babe…" he puts his hand back, holding firm, "You missed a spot…" Gently, he pries the sweater from my iron grip and wipes at a spot on my cheek, near my nose, "If you're going to ruin a perfectly good sweater, at least get it all off."

And suddenly all the tension in my body melts. I smile brightly, for the first time all day, and lean over to kiss his cheek, "Thanks, Peaches."

Clint arches an eyebrow at the magnificent shade of red on Jimmie's face, "What the hell is it about 'Peaches' that gets him so worked up?"

With a snicker, Kev proclaims, "Jimmie's balls are covered in fuzz, like two ripe Georgia peaches, Shifty. Didn't you know?"

A wave of laughter rumbles through the limo as we all howl in hysterics. Jimmie's face flushes harder and Clint looks at me curiously, "No, really. Why 'Peaches'?"

I grin and nod toward Kevin, "He's tellin' the truth, Bowyer. Jimmie's got balls like peaches!" We all howl again and before I know it, the limo's stopping at mine and Jimmie's apartment. Guess today wasn't so bad, after all.


	3. The One I Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: 23 - Lovers  
> Completed: 09/02/2008
> 
> Sometimes you do anything to make your loved ones happy.

_Sea World  
San Diego, CA_

I don’t know what in the hell I'm doing here. Honestly, I'm a full grown man, I ain't got no kids of my own. Why the hell am I here in a place filled with kids and families, making myself look ridiculous? I should be home right now, in a bar somewhere, at the very least. I could be with my sister and my friends and our family, grilling some steaks and drinking some beers. Could be racing karts and shooting the shit down in the saloon. Anywhere, but here. Because, really, what full grown man puts himself through this willingly? What man in his right mind comes to friggin' SEA WORLD on his one day off from life? 

Of course, it ain't like I had much of a choice. Jimmie threw me the puppy eyes, complete with pouty lower lip, and I was a goner. Damn him for knowing how to hit all the right buttons. Of course, after this many years together, it's really no surprise. He's been my other half for so long that he ain't even really a half anymore, just an extension of myself. I should have known better Sunday night when I told him we could celebrate however he wanted. I figured he'd just pounce on me and we'd fuck all night. I wasn't expecting him to con me into a trip home to San Diego for a couple days.

Wasn't so bad at first, to be totally honest. We went to see some of his family in El Cajon, and then spent a couple hours on the beach. He tried to teach me to surf, but after wiping out once and getting nailed in the head with my board, I decided I was safer just watching him. I enjoyed myself, too. He's so at home when he's in the water, so at peace and at ease. I could watch him forever. We wound up walking along the surf for a little while, hand in hand like a couple of teenagers or something. An older couple walked by us and I've never seen someone beam as bright as the woman did when she laid eyes on us. Murmured something to her husband about "old love", whatever that means.

Then I woke up today and he was bouncing excitedly at the foot of the bed, telling me to get up because we were going to one of his favorite places 'round these parts. I was expecting some Mexican joint, or a trip to Old Town, where we spend a lot of time when we come here, but instead he whipped out a brochure for Sea World that he'd swiped from our hotel lobby. I thought he was joking, but when I started to laugh and he got all hurt, I knew I was fucked. That's when he broke out the puppy eyes.

I can't really be all that upset with this, though. We're out of the house, after all, and he's enjoying himself immensely, if the smile on his face is any indication. Watch him from where I sit on the ledge of a pool full of bat-rays and can't keep the tiny smile off my face as he sticks his hand in the water and pats one of them on the head. We've been sitting here almost half an hour now, and he's so thrilled with it all. He's like a big kid. 

Jump when my ass is suddenly soaked and look down to see one of the rays floating next to me, flapping his wings impatiently and looking up at me through one eye, as if he's demanding my attention. Reach into the water and rub his slimy, rubbery head and get rewarded with another splash before he swims away. The kid next to me squeals with delight when the ray runs under his hand, and I smile softly. This may be a lame way to spend the time, but at least the people around me are enjoying it. I haven't seen Jimmie's eyes light up this much since he won the 500.

As if he feels my eyes on him, Jimmie glances my way, catching my gaze. We smile softly at one another and a feeling of adoration swells up inside of me. This is the man I've chosen to spend the rest of my life with. Every time I look at him I feel the little butterflies floating around in my stomach, and I know he feels the exact same way. Between us, his hand slides over mine, fingers tracing over my knuckles like they always do. We're still careful not to give ourselves away, but over the years we've learned how to touch one another without being conspicuous. We could walk down pit road holding hands and no one would ever notice.

"Everything okay?" He gives my hand a squeeze, studying my face to see what has me looking so deep in thought.

"Mm…fine and dandy. Stupid fish soaked my ass, but I think I'll survive." Give him a lopsided grin and he laughs softly.

"My poor baby. Maybe we should get going then, don't want them to stage a mutiny and try to drown you or something, then," he starts to stand up but something comes over me and I just can't help myself. I hold tight to his hand and pull him into me, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. He lets out a surprised little squeak before kissing me back, his lips soft against my own. It ain't everyday I'll chance a PDA, but I can't help myself. I love him and I want him to know it.

We part after a moment and I drop a soft kiss to his forehead, my fingers running through his hair, murmuring an "I love you" before parting completely and pushing myself up off the ledge. The back of my wranglers are soaked, but for the moment I really don't care. Across the way I can see a crowd forming outside the Sea Lion show and before I can think twice about it, I take him by the hand and lead him over to the tiny performance theatre, making sure we sit up front where we're sure to get wet.

If I have to live through this day of complete childishness, then we're going to do it right. We're not leaving until we're both soaked in fishy saltwater.


	4. Backstabbed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: 26 - Teammates  
> Completed: 07/11/2008
> 
> Summary: What’s it like to be stabbed in the back by your best friend? Takes place after the infamous Talladega last lap incident between Brian Vickers and Jimmie Johnson.

So much for being teammates. So much for being friends. Brian Lee Vickers is now nothing more than another competitor to me. How COULD he? He knew exactly what he was doing out there. He wanted that win so bad he did the worst possible thing to get it. He stabbed me in the fucking back. Spun me out with half a lap to go. Forced me to take Dale out with me. I wish I could put into words how…how EVERYTHING I am. Angry, hurt, disappointed. Those don’t even begin to explain how I feel right now.

When I got out of my car, the first thing I did was check on Dale. That’s the first thing he did, too. Once we knew we were okay, he drove back to the garage and I got carted to the care center. I could see him doing burnouts through the ambulance window. I kept praying he’d blow out a tire and fuck up his car. All I could think of was getting into Victory Lane and decking him right in the face. Telling him where to go and how to get there. I was shaking, I was so angry.

Of course, the press saved him from a public beat down. I was trying to get to Victory Lane when the ocean of media scum cornered me to ask me my thoughts on the race’s end. I wanted to tell them how I really would have liked to tear Brian’s head off, but instead I rambled about not wanting to talk and stuff. God, it would have felt so good to publicly bash that little twit.

Dale got to me before I could get to Brian. He was smiling and laughing, telling jokes to his team. I couldn’t believe he wasn’t as angry as I was. I was almost shocked at how calm and put together he was. The way he wrapped an arm around my shoulder and offered to buy me a beer as he steered me back to the coach lot. I tried to protest, tried to tell him that I had plans to maim Vickers, but he just kept tugging me in the opposite direction.

When we got back to the coach, he broke down. He lost it completely, so angry that his accent got impossibly thicker. I didn’t know it was possible, but he sounded like Sterling. He was yelling and screaming and talking so fast I couldn’t understand him, save for a curse, or ten. I joined in on the curse fest and soon enough we were a crumpled mess on the couch, laughing over how ridiculous we must have sounded.

We ended up taking a shower; long and hot and just what we needed to calm ourselves down after that god awful end of the race. We stayed in there so long the water god cold, but even then, we didn’t really care. The whole time, only one thing kept running through my mind.

How COULD he?

For the first time in a long time, I flew home with Dale instead of with my team. All I wanted was to curl up and mope with the only person who truly knew how I felt. We snuggled up in our seats, his arms around me as his fingers worked their way through my hair. We vented for a while, but it slowly turned from professional point of view to personal. Brian was supposed to be a friend, almost a brother, to me. And the way he had the nerve to dedicate his win to Ricky.

Dale agreed whole-heartedly that Ricky would have been disappointed in Brian. Ricky was about the good of the team and the company. He was about giving up his racing dreams because he knew someone better could do him proud. Ricky never would have spun out a teammate to get a win. Especially not a teammate in reach of a championship. Ricky would have kicked Brian’s ass.

By the time we got home to the Dirty Mo’ Acres, we were both far more relaxed and calm, but I was no less hurt. Shockingly enough, when I checked my voicemail, there was a message from Brian, asking me to come celebrate. No apology, though. I hope he had to celebrate alone. I hope no one talks to him in the shop the next time he walks through the doors. But most of all. Most of all? I


	5. Uncle Junior

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: 28 - Children  
> Completed: Circa 2006  
> Summary: Dale ponders what it’d be like to have children of his own.

As I sit in the living room of my sister’s house with my youngest niece in my arms, I can’t help but think. She’s a gorgeous baby, nearly a year old now. I can still remember when Kelley told us she was pregnant again. Hell, I can still remember when she was pregnant with Karsyn. To think that she’s nearly seven now and Kelley’s planning Kennedy’s first birthday. It’s crazy how fast the time goes by. I shift Kennedy a bit as she drinks down her bottle of apple juice on my lap. She’s been on solid foods for months now, and it’s always funny as hell watching her try to feed herself. It’s easy to tell she’s an Earnhardt when she throws a fit over people trying to help her eat. She gets to hollerin’ and fussin’ and just downright raisin’ hell until they give the spoon to her and let her try and feed herself. I bounce my legs a little as she drinks, watching as she smiles around the bottle.

Kids are something I’ve always wanted in my life. Not just my nieces and nephews, but children of my own. One of my dreams for as long as I can remember was to be a father. To settle down with the right woman and raise some kids. Four, at least. Like my daddy. Of course, none of that seems possible anymore without the added bonus of paperwork and shit. After all, it ain’t like me or Jimmie can pop out a kid.

I love Jimmie with all of my heart, and I know deep down in my gut that this is the way things were supposed to be. No matter how many women I dated or thought I loved, none of them ever treated me like he does. None of them ever wanted to stick around for the right reasons. Even the girl I dated before Jimmie, who had her own wealth and seemed to genuinely like me for who I was…even she couldn’t measure up to him. It’s all the little things he does, I guess. Comin’ home and finding him with dinner cooking, just because he wanted to. Waking up to him curled up against me instead of halfway across the bed. The way he likes to hold my hand when we’re driving and rest his head on my shoulder when we’re watching TV. The fact that he ain’t ashamed to wrap his arms around my waist and kiss my cheek while we’re standing around talking to his family.

Kelley is the only person in my family that knows about me and Jimmie. She’s the only one I trust enough to tell. In fact, she was the first person I came out to. Nearly six months after we’d started messing around, she nearly caught us going at it on my coach one day and I just blurted it all out while Jimmie stood by my side in case I needed the support. I’ll never forget the look on his face when she started laughing and giving me hell about it. That’s Kelley, though. No matter what kind of bombshell I drop on her, she takes it in stride. I think part of her was relieved, though. With all the sleeping around I’d been doing, it was only a matter of time before I knocked up some one night stand and wound up married to a mooch who didn’t deserve our name.

And yet…there’s times when I wish there would have been that one forgotten condom, that one pill that hadn’t worked, so I could have a kid of my own. It just hurts so bad sometimes, thinking that Jimmie and I both want something we can’t have. I mean…there’s ways to do it, but they just don’t seem right, I guess. We’ve talked about adoption. It’s the easiest way for us to go about having a kid, but it’s not the same. We want a baby with our DNA, with our flesh and blood. Or one of ours, as the case may be. But then it starts to get complicated. We’d have to find someone we trusted that would be willing to carry the baby for us and then give up their rights so the other one of us could adopt. We’d have to trust them enough to keep their mouths shut about everything. The only people I trust that much are the people that know about me and Jimmie and they’re either guys or my sister.

Chandra’s come up a time or two. She’s done an incredible job of hiding our relationship for the past few years. She’s definitely one of our best friends, one of the few people who would go out on a limb for us. She knew the deal when she first met Jimmie. He’d explained the entire situation to her and she still hung around because she cared that much about him. She’s even offered once or twice to carry for us, should we ever decide we wanted kids. It’s a tempting offer, but at the same time it’s so damn weird. I mean, here’s this chick claiming to be Jimmie’s wife. So we decide to have kids and one of us does the knocking up and then she has to parade around convincing everyone that her and Jimmie are expecting. All the press will start, people will be banging down doors wanting pictures of the parents-to-be, and I’ll be on the sidelines pretending I’m not involved. And that kills me.

I lift Kennedy up once she finishes her bottle and hold her steady as she stands on my lap, bouncing and baby talking happily. She’s growing so damn fast, and she’s gorgeous to boot. Just like Karsyn. They’ve both got their dad’s eyes and nose, but their face is all Kelley. Karsyn’s already adopted the Earnhardt “take no shit” attitude and she’s completely protective of her younger sibling, just like her momma. I admire that about her. I know that once they’re older, she’ll protect her sister the same way my sister’s always protected me. She’ll love her no matter what and look out for her and always have her back, even when they’re fighting. Just like Kelley and me. I lean in and kiss Kennedy on the forehead, whispering an “I love you” into her ear. It’s not a phrase I take lightly and few people ever hear the words come out of my mouth, but there are times when I just feel like it’s right to say it. Kelley and Jimmie…they hear it more than anyone else, and they always will.

I lean back into the couch a bit, smiling softly as I watch Kennedy play with one of the buttons on the Red Sox jersey I’ve got on. She’s so curious about everything lately. Every noise, every moving object, everything she comes into contact with she has to explore and investigate. I’d love nothing more than to go through all this with a child of my own. More often than not, I sit around daydreaming about what it’d be like to raise a family with Jimmie. The two of us sitting on the couch with a baby of our own, feeding it and changing it, getting up at all hours of the night with it. Walking around with a baby stroller, shopping for formula and diapers. Going to our daughter’s ballet recitals or our son’s little league games. Teaching them to ride a bike and drive a car, watching them graduate high school or get married and start their own family. Everything that Kelley gets to do every damn day with her girls. Everything daddy tried to be around for when he was still alive.

With a shake of my head, I bring myself back to the present, to the little girl sitting on my lap. I grin as she babbles up at me, seeming to realized that I’ve drifted to La La Land. I sit up again and look over at where my sister and Jimmie are sitting on the loveseat, chattering away like old biddies about god only knows what. Karsyn’s stretched out on the floor with a box of crayons and some coloring books and I know that no matter what happens down the line with Jimmie and I, whether we have kids of our own or not, I’ll always be happy knowing I’ve got these two little girls to look after. Even if I never have the chance to watch my own kids grow up, I can watch them. I’ll be there through everything. The training wheels coming off the bikes, the first dates, the graduations, the broken hearts, and all the laughter. Hell, I’m Uncle Junior, after all.


	6. Days Go By

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The stress of being under so much scrutiny takes its toll on you.
> 
> Prompt: 33 - Too Much  
> Completed: 07/07/09

**Days Go By**  
 _Charlotte, NC_  
 

The season’s been rough on both of us, but this weekend was just plain ridiculous for him. He goes from being consistently inconsistent to being consistently wrecked every race. Sonoma was the happiest I’ve seen him in months, despite the fact that his top ten run got ruined. He had fun and that’s not a word he’s ever used before when talking about the road course. He was smiling when he got out of his car on Friday night, after being wrecked out of the Nationwide race early. Saturday night was more of the same. It’s like he’s a magnet for bad luck lately but he’s finally learned to take it all in stride. He’s finally realized that nobody’s perfect, not even him. It’s like some invisible weight’s been lifted off his chest and he can breathe again. He’s still unhappy with his performance and with his season, but he’s learned to leave the disappointment at the track. He’s learned to put all the emotion into his driving- in a good way. It’s a relief to see him smile again. He laughed for the first time in weeks this weekend. A real laugh; huge, guffawing laughter, right from his gut, so hard and loud that he had to clutch his stomach in pain and tears streamed down his cheeks. It was incredible to see the man I fell in love with standing before me once again. I missed him; missed him a lot.

I can’t really blame him for how he was acting. The stress of being under so much scrutiny takes its toll on you, especially when you’re an Earnhardt. It’s never easy having people constantly tearing you, your team, and your family to shreds. Everyone always wanting to know when, and why, and how. All the demands and pressure and expectations- it’s a lot to live up to, and he’s finally realized that it’s not possible. The only way to be truly happy is to shut it all out and be the best person you know how to be. And he really is so much happier now that he’s figured all of that out. 

Once the race ended Saturday night, I slid out of my car and went through the motions of talking to the media as I inched my way to my hauler. I fully expected him to be on the coach by then, already showered and waiting to leave. Imagine my surprise when I walked onto my team’s hauler and found him there waiting for me, his suit around his waist and a sheepish grin on his face. A grin of my own broke out across my face and I bolted to him, hugging him for all he was worth. It’s been ages since he’s waited for me after a race. It’s one of the many things I missed while he was going through his cranky-old-man phase. I buried my face in his neck, breathing in a scent that can only be described as “Junior”. I could feel him doing the same thing to me. I smiled against his skin at the feel of his fingers running over my scalp, petting my “peach fuzz”, as he’s come to call it. When I first came home with my new hair style, I thought for sure he’d kill me. To my utter surprise, and complete relief, he’d absolutely loved it and spent the next few hours showing me just how much he did. A thrill ran through my as I remembered that night and he chucked low in my ear, making a crack about his hugs causing hard-on’s. I grinned up at him, making a suggestive remark in response. It’d taken us only fifteen minutes to get back to the coach and completely tear apart the kitchen. We’d ended up panting and spent on the cool tiled floor, completely naked and half-under the table, covered in sweat. It hadn’t been that good in weeks. It’s only gotten better since.

We spent Sunday locked in the bedroom, only leaving the bed for absolute necessities. It was like the honeymoon phase all over again and we were loving every moment of it. It felt so good to be curled up in his arms, listening to his heart beating. It was like being in a constant state of nirvana, couldn’t think of anything better if I tried. The look of content on his face made it clear that he felt the same exact way. Every time he closed his eyes, his face fell perfectly slack, not even the tiniest hint of frustration or anxiety marring his strong features. I fell in love with him all over again that day.

Monday morning, we decided to skip out on our responsibilities in the real world and took his houseboat out on the lake for the day, instead. We anchored right smack in the middle and spent the day stretched out naked on the deck, enjoying the feel of the sun on our faces. We left a couple fishing lines dangled over the railing, intent on using whatever we caught for dinner. At one point it became unbearably hot, so we jumped into the water and splashed around until we couldn’t keep our hands off one another anymore. The entire boat ended up getting christened from bow to stern and back again. We were like a couple of teenagers, unable to resist being apart for more than a few minutes. By the time we got back to the house, we were so exhausted that we barely had enough energy to climb the stairs to the bedroom. When we finally fell into bed, we were conked out in seconds.

This morning, Junior tried to talk me out of leaving bed again, but I mustered up the strength to come into work despite all of his highly tempting offers. He was none-too-pleased with my willpower, until Mike called and challenged him to a push-up competition with their trainer. The fact that my lazyass boyfriend has a personal trainer in the first place is amusing enough; the thought of him trying to do more than ten push-ups is downright hilarious. I kissed him goodbye on my way out the door, while he talked smack to Mike over the phone, and came to the shop to check in on things. Chad made a crack about me finally gracing the world with my presence when he saw me walk by his office, and I rolled my eyes. We both know I’m only here long enough to check my emails and return some phone calls. 

My phone buzzing in my pocket pulls my attention away from an email about some new drug testing policies and I pull it out, unable to keep the smile off my face while I see Junior’s picture lighting up my screen. I accept the call and put the phone to my ear, “Hello gorgeous!”

“Gorgeous…my…sweaty…ass!” He sounds like he just ran a ten mile marathon with a gorilla strapped to his back. Working out usually takes a lot out of him, but this is just ridiculous.

I straighten up a little in my chair, wondering if maybe the push-up competition went a little too far. I’m an eternal worrier, especially where Junior’s concerned. It’s a trait I inherited from my mother, “…babe? Everything okay?”

“NO! That bastard…he tried…to…KILL ME!” I can here hyena-like laughter in the background that can only belong to Mike Davis, “Tried to…make me run…six miles!”

I roll my eyes playfully. Years of social smoking and a hefty lack of exercise have all but killed his stamina. It’s amazing he can go so long during sex, “My poor baby. Come to my office and I’ll make it all better.”

“Kiss my ass,” his breathing is almost back to normal, “only place I’m going…is the shower. I stink to the…high heavens.”

“Too bad, June…here I am all hard and ready to go…all ready to sit on your cock and-“

“TOO MUCH INFORMATION!” Mike sounds perfectly horrified and my face burns with embarrassment in less than a second when I realize I’ve been on speaker this whole time.

“JUNIOR! You ass, you could have warned me! God can you be ANY more immature?”

Junior howls with laughter at us both as we verbally assault him for setting us up. It’s not the first time he’s pulled this prank but for him it never gets old, “Aw man you should see the look on his face right now, Jimmie! Looks like he just ate a rotten egg!” I can practically hear the tears of laughter sliding down his cheeks, “bet your face looks just like his!”

“You’re an ass, Dale,” try as I might to be angry at him, I just can’t do it. It’s been so long since he’s laughed this much that I can’t help but forgive him immediately, “You’ll get yours, you jerk.”

I hear the click of the speaker as it turns off, “Watcha got in mind, baby?”

Smirking softly, I settle back in my chair, “Well, there’s always those handcuffs we’ve been neglecting…and that new cockring we’ve yet to try out…”

He moans softly and I know neither of us can wait to get home and make good on the “punishment” that I’m brewing up for him.


	7. Just Because

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: 34. Not Enough  
> Completed: Circa 2005
> 
> Jimmie wishes Dale would learn to do things for the right reasons while they're on a trip to Vegas.

Dale knows this place like we’re back in Mooresville. He leads me into bars and clubs, introduces me to bartenders and bouncers that he knows. Every door we step into leads us to more people he knows. More “local buddies” as he calls them. We go into casinos and get comped meals; VIP treatment all around. It’s here in Vegas that the true perks of being Dale Earnhardt Jr are revealed: Women everywhere, hanging on him; a nonstop flow of alcohol; the best seats for any show we so choose. And it all sucks.

While Dale basks in his perks I get to sit on the sidelines and pretend I’m enjoying it all with him. The truth, though, is that I couldn’t be more miserable. He flirts with the women, drinks his beer, and chats with all his buddies while I stand around feeling useless. I don’t know why I always so this to myself. We’ve been together - practically married - for four years now, but I still haven’t learned my lesson.

“Lets go to Vegas, have some fun,” he says, and I agree knowing full well I’ll end up alone in a corner while he shmoozes and plays the part of rockstar playboy. Sure, on occasion he’ll throw an arm around me and introduce me to his buddies as his “pal” Jimmie, but still. I’m more than a pal and just once I’d like to be treated that way while we’re here. Not that I’ll tell him any of this. Nope, I’ll just sit around with my lips sealed and when we get back to our VIP suite I’ll let him fuck me senseless and fall asleep curled up in his arms.

It seems like the bedroom is the only place we’re allowed to be ourselves when we’re here. I wouldn’t mind so much if every once in a while he’d notice me outside of it. Honestly, would it kill him to kiss my cheek when we know no one’s looking? Or hell, even one of those sexy as fuck “I want you” looks would do. ANYthing aside from the forced friendly gestures he feels obligated to toss at me to keep me feeling involved.

I sigh softly and stir my drink absently as he cozies up to yet another woman shamelessly throwing herself at him. I’ve grown used to all of this over the years, it doesn’t phase me to see him flirting. Dale will never deny how much he loves me, but he’ll also never deny that he’s still very much attracted to women. It used to make me nervous because I know his relationship history, but over the years he’s more than proven his loyalty to me. Now it just bothers me because his attention should be on me, not the blonde with fake boobs.

As if he can read my thoughts, Dale suddenly pulls his attention from the blonde to his right and in one fluid motion slides off his stool as he slips a bill over to the bartender. He walks back over to where I’ve been sitting for the past twenty minutes, wedged into a corner. I watch as he saunters over to me, his eyes lit up with mischief. I’m doomed. The last time he gave me that look I wound up tied to the bed with a cock ring on for two hours.

“So, wanna go to Paris?”

I blink, “Pardon?”

“The casino. Across the street.”

“Oh. Yeah, sure,” I try to hide my disappointment. Why would I think he meant the city? Because I’m a romantic idiot, that’s why. I want to hold hands on a street in France and he wants to get sloshed in Gustav’s Sports Bar.

I follow him out of our current bar and across the street into Paris. With a resigned sigh I glance up at the faux-Eiffel Tower as it looms above us on our way in. Dale does his best to make me happy but he’ll never be romantic. All I want is to ride to the top and look out over the strip as it twinkles below us, his arm around my shoulders. All he wants is another beer and someone to hold his cell phone. Which reminds me: Martin called an hour ago. Oops.

To my surprise, Dale bypasses Gustav’s and makes his way to the souvenir shop. I start to follow but he stops and turns to me. He slips some money in my hand and asks me to buy him a beer. Figures. Fighting the urge to roll my eyes, I do as asked, just narrowly avoiding mowing down a cocktail waitress.

When I come back a few minutes later, I spot Dale flirting with the woman at the bottom of the escalator that leads to the tower elevator. I hesitate a moment but he sees me and gives me the “Come here” nod so I finish my trip back and hold the beer out to him. He takes it with a thanks and tells me to come on. I give him a puzzled look and he laughs, calling me a geek, I must look even more confused because he wraps a hand around my wrist and tugs me onto the escalator.

“Dale have you lost your mind?”

“What?”

“The last time we were here I asked if you’d go up to the top of the Eiffel Tower with me and you said -”

“- not over my dead body. I know,” he takes a sip of his beer as we get off the escalator and walk over to the roped off area before the elevator. Four years and it still amazes me that he can finish my sentences like that.

“So why the change of heart?”

All I get in response is a shrug and a woman with a French accent telling us to pose for a picture, which we do. I can feel myself going into my patented “Lowes Poster Boy” pose, complete with the uber-geek look on my face. I don’t even have to look at him to know Dale’s giving the camera his sexy smirk and half-cocked eyebrow. The poses are second nature to us, pathetically enough.

He surprises me by talking my hand in his as we bypass the line and head directly to the elevator. Skipping lines is one of the few perks I DO enjoy. I lace my fingers through his and follow him onto the lift, shifting uncomfortably when the woman working the controls gives us a dirty look.

Save for Ms. Evil Eye, we’re completely alone which isn’t all that surprising. What is surprising is the discovery that we’re the only two on the observation deck when the elevator doors open and the hotel employees quickly scamper onto the elevator with a shouted, “Take as long as you like!” as the doors close. My mind’s reeling. Did Dale do all this for me or is this just a bit of ironic luck?

“You gonna look around or just stare at me all night?”

It’s only when he questions me that I realize I’ve been staring a hole through his head since we got up here. I shake my head slightly to clear the cobwebs and step toward the edge of the deck, peaking out through the metal retaining fence. It’s close to 1am and the sky is dark as black velvet, interrupted only by the twinkling of thousands of stars. Below us, the strip buzzes with activity; tourists and partiers, cabs honking, billboards and speakers blaring about must-see shows. Casino lights blink and flicker, but from up here it all seems muted by distance and the wind I hadn’t even noticed on the street.

I circle the deck silently for several minutes, occasionally stopping to take in the sights before me. I’ve never seen anything so gorgeous in my life. Vegas is one of the few places on Earth that sparkles. I look out beyond the strip, toward the mountains, and marvel at the pure beauty of it all.

At some point during my silent reverie, Dale slid up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. I smile at the feel of his chin on my shoulder and lean into him a bit, basking in the perfection of this moment. I don’t know what brought on this romantic outburst, but I’m thankful for it.

He whispers into my ear and his breath tickles every nerve, “I love you, Jimmie.”

His arms tighten around me and I close my eyes for a moment. Much like his father, Junior isn’t one to make a huge show of emotion. While I never doubt his love for me, I always cherish the moments when he comes out of his shell and reminds me just how much I mean to him.

“I love you too, June,” I rest my hands over his and tilt my head back, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek.

“Sorry I’ve been ignoring you all night. Guess I got caught up.”

And there’s my explanation. I should have known he did this out of guilt. Part of me wants to be mad at him for trying to make himself feel better for ignoring me, but a bigger part is thankful. At least he realized what he was doing and tried to make up for it. He knows how much little things like this mean to me and he went out of his way to much sure I was happy.

I just wish he’d learn to do things like this just because.


	8. Stimulating Reading

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Junior gets a look at Jimmie's Maxim pictures.  
> Prompt: 37 - Sight  
> COMPLETED: 10/14/08

_Hendrick Motorsports  
Charlotte, NC_

I never thought it possible for one man to be so sexy. The way he's leaning on that car, with that look on his face…the way his clothes hug his body just so… That LOOK in his eyes! God. I've never been so turned on by a magazine in my life. I've been starring at these pages so long and so hard I'm surprised I ain't burned a hole in them yet. Jimmie looks incredible. They dressed him up real good, took care of that rat's nest on his head, and man it did wonders. I've never been more attracted to him than I am right now. I just can’t get over how GOOD he looks. Usually I prefer him naked, but damn. I need to get this framed.

I shift a little in my office chair, my pants uncomfortably tight with how turned on I am. The zipper of my Wranglers is digging into my cock, which has been hard and throbbing for nearly half an hour, now. I glance out the windows that make up the walls of my office; too many people around to take care of the problem right here. With my luck I'll get spotted, or someone will come barging in. can always slip into the bathroom, but where's the fun in that?

My cell lights up like a Christmas tree as it skitters across the desk; the constant vibrating alerting me of a call. With a sigh I reach for it, snatching it up before it can tumble to the floor. It's Jimmie, ironically enough. I flip the phone open and put it to my ear, "Hey sexy, was just thinking about you…" my voice is husky and laced with arousal. I know he can pick up on it.

"June…I…" Mhmm, threw him for a loop, alright, "What's going on, baby?"

I can hear the tone in his voice shift, "Mm…you know… just catching up on my reading…there's this…really hot guy in Maxim…"

He swallows thickly and I can practically see him squirming, "Th-there is? What's he look like?"

Smirk softly and get up to close my blinds. Fuck the people around, I'm gonna have some fun, "He's so fuckin' hot…got this real sexy fuck me face…"

His voice gets deeper with arousal, "Bet you would, too. Bet you'd love to stick your big, hard cock in his ass…"

"Fuck yeah…" Sit back down in my chair and open my pants, sliding my hand in to stroke my cock, "Wanna bend him over that car and pound into his tight ass…"

He moans and there's no doubt in my mind he's getting himself off right now, too, "God…want your cock in my ass, June…wanna feel you fucking me…"

Tighten my grip on the phone as I stroke myself faster, "Tell me how you want it, Jimmie…" Nothing gets me hotter than when he tells me what he wants.

"Fuck. June…" he whimpers and I can picture him stretched out in his office chair, eyes squeezed shut, bottom lip firmly between his teeth as his hand works over the silky-smooth skin of his cock, "Want you to fuck me hard. Wanna fell that big gorgeous cock pounding into my tight hot ass, over and over…"

I have to swallow down a moan, stopping to tease the head of my cock for a moment, gathering up the beads of precum there to slick myself up with, "Love that tight ass, baby…wanna make you scream my name while I fuck you…"

"Shit, Dale…" he moans softly, "fuck, my cock's so hard, baby…wish you were here…want that sexy mouth of yours on it…sucking and licking, swallowing it all down…"

My eyes drift closed at the imagery and I moan his name softly, not holding back anymore as I stroke myself fast and hard. The familiar ache is building up in my groin. Won't be long now, "Mm…Jimmie…so close, baby…want you to make me come…"

"No." His tone shifts again, snapping me out of my daze, "Don't you dare, not until you’re here with me, for real. Wanna sit on your lap and ride your cock…make us both come…"

I'm out of my chair and moving to the door before he can finish his sentence, fixing myself before yanking it open and bolting down the hall to his office. Like mine, his office shades are drawn, and I can only pray he's already naked and bent over the desk. I go to knock but before my hand can hit the door it's open and he's yanking me into the room by the front of my shirt. We tumble to the ground in a heated kiss, tearing off one another's clothes as we roll and squirm our way to his desk.

"Goddamn baby…" lick my lips and moan softly when I see his cock, hard and swollen, dripping with come. He mirrors my reaction and pushes me down onto his chair, climbing into my lap. There's a bottle of lube on the desk and I grab it, squeezing some out to slick myself up. He knocks my hands away impatiently, pinning them down on the armrests as he drops down onto my cock. We both moan loudly and I arch up against him as he rides me, hard and fast. The chair squeaks beneath us, but it's drowned out by our screams.

"Fuck, Jimmie…so good baby…" Pry my arms from his grip and grab his hips, nails digging into his skin as I lift my hips to match his rhythm, "Fuck baby, m'gonna come…"

He clenches himself down around me, riding my harder and faster until I'm screaming my release into his neck, gripping him tightly to me. Feel him slip a hand between us and pull back to watch as he touches himself, bringing himself to his own orgasm, hard and loud as my own.

We sit there for a long while, tangled up and spent, panting softly as the aftershock of our orgasms wash over us. He nuzzles my neck, murmuring softly, "So you liked the pictures?"

I give him a lazy grin, "Sure did, baby. Sure did."


	9. Bound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: 38. Touch  
> Rating: NC-17  
> Completed: Circa 2006  
> Summary: Jimmie wakes up to a big surprise.

Darkness.

Complete and total blackness.

Try to open my eyes and realize they’re already open.

I try to sit up, but can’t. My hands are tied down. In fact, so are my feet.

I shiver and come to the realization that I’m naked.

Just as the panic starts to set in, I hear a rustling to my left. 

Try to cry out, but there’s a gag in my mouth.

My heart starts racing, my body trembles, and then-

“Geez, it’s about time you woke up! Thought you’d be out till next week!”

I should have known. This is something that screams his name. I relax into the bed and groan around my gag. He laughs and I groan again. I know that laugh. It’s the “You’re SO In For It Because I’ve Thought Up New Ways To Torture You” laugh. The last time I heard it he fucked me on a helicopter ride around Manhattan. How we didn’t end up in the tabloids is beyond me.

“It’s four in the afternoon, so you know. Dragged your drunk ass back from the bar at three this mornin’. Had to carry you from the car to the bedroom. Figured you wouldn’t mind thankin’ me properly when ya woke up.”

I feel his hand creep up my inner thigh and my body jumps to attention. An all-too-familiar ache forms in my groin and gut and I can practically hear him smirking.

“Y’don’t mind, do ya JimmieBoy?”

I shake my head, knowing that even if I did mind, it wouldn’t matter. He always gets what he wants - ALWAYS.

“Good boy. Now you just sit tight and enjoy yourself, I’ll take care of the rest,” his hand creeps up higher and it takes everything in me not to buck up against him when his fingers brush my groin. I know his games, know that if I try to move the repercussions won’t be pretty.

He slides over on top of me and I can feel the rough denim of his jeans, harsh against my skin. Straddling my legs, his fingers creep around my semi-hard cock and slowly, skillfully, work me to full-throttle. His thumb brushes over my head and I tense up, breathing in sharply around the gag. Chuckling, he shifts a bit, his hand leaving my cock for an instant, and when it returns I wish it hadn’t. I feel the familiar cool smoothness of the metal ring sliding down to the base of my shaft, where it rests snuggly, and bite down on the rubber ball in my mouth. That damn cock ring is never a good sign.

“Relax, JimmieBoy,” his voice taunts me as his fingers continue their slow torture, “We ain’t even gotten to the good stuff yet…”

Gasp in surprise as something incredibly cold lands in the middle of my chest. He pours it down my breast bone as I try to figure out what it is. Not water - too thick, Lotion, maybe? A new lube? 

And then I smell it.

Chocolate.

The son of a bitch is covering me in chocolate syrup! I squirm as the cool drizzle makes its way down my stomach, circling around my belly button before traveling down my inner thighs. He chuckles again, obviously enjoying himself.

After several minutes he finishes up and shifts on the bed. My mind and heart race as I wait for his next move, almost afraid to find out just what it is. Whipped cream? Ice cream? Sprinkles? I don’t have to wait long. His hands are on my chest, smearing the syrup every which way. It’s finally warming up but I shiver anyway when his mouth is suddenly on me. Lips, teeth, and tongue attacking my nipples; biting and sucking at them, lapping up the chocolate. Fighting the urge to cry out, I tug fruitlessly against my restraints, arching into his every touch.

It’s sweet torture and I know he’s enjoying this as much as I am. All my senses are heightened from my lack of sight and every touch sends bolts of electricity through my veins and nerves. My cock is throbbing, the ring around the base the only thing stopping me from coming on the spot as he follows the chocolate path down my body.

What feels like hours later, he finally makes his way to my groin and I can feel his hot breath on my aching erection. I lift my hips into the sensation, hoping to be met by the delicious feel of his mouth surrounding me, but instead get two strong hands on my hips, pushing me back down. A frustrated groan turns into a yelp of surprise and pain when he slaps me - HARD - in the stomach. My skin burns and tingles as I admit defeat, forcing myself to relax and let him have full control.

A short moment later, he continues his work, nibbling and sucking a path down my thigh. My heart’s pounding so hard I can feel my entire body pulsating with every beat, can hear the increasing tempo of the thumpa-thumpa in my ears. His every touch is deliberate and slow, lingering just longer than necessary. I’m not sure how much more of this I can take.

Finally, he works his way up my other thigh, tongue darting out ever-so-briefly to lap up the precum dripping down my shaft. My body bucks of its own volition and once again a hand comes down hard on my burning skin. I whimper despite myself, squirming as it all becomes more than I can take. If this keeps up much longer, I may pass out.

To my surprise and utter disappointment, I feel the bed shift as he slides off of it. I desperately whish I could see what he’s up to, but then the sound of a zipper coming undone graces my ears and I smirk around the gag. My mouth has gone dry and my arms are falling asleep but the only thing I can really feel is the engorged, twitching organ jutting out from my body. It must be purple by now, I’ve been hard for so long.

When he returns to the bed, I feel him stretch out along my side, his cool body pressed against my feverish skin. His own cock feels as hard as mine, pressed against my hip. His hot breath tickles my neck as he speaks into my ear, voice raspy and low, southern drawl thick with lust.

“M’gonna take the gag off…NO talking, y’understand?” His fingers trace teasing lines along my abs and I nod, fighting the urge to arch up into his touch.

The gag comes off a moment later and I sigh in relief, working the kinks from my jaw. He rubs my chest, nuzzling my neck, “Good boy.”

Suddenly, his hand is closed around my shaft and I gasp loudly, mustering up every bit of strength I have to keep still - and quiet. Torturously slow, he starts to work his hand over my aching cock and it’s all I can do not to respond. My nails dig hard into my palms, bottom lip caught in a vice-like grip between my teeth.

Slowly, he slides back down my body, trailing kisses along the way. He pulls his hand away but before I can protest, my cock is enveloped in the white-hot moisture of his mouth as he deep throats me, the head of my shaft brushing the back of his throat. He sucks me hard, bobbing his head quickly and I moan loudly, no longer able to hold back, My hips buck as he stops to tease my head and instead of a slap, I’m rewarded with the vibrations of his own moans of pleasure, rippling through my nerve endings. As he takes me in again, a finger probes my back entrance and I let out a strangled cry. This eggs him on and he presses into me, penetrating me as deep and slow as he can.

“Ah god…fuck baby, please!!” I cry out, rocking against his hand as a second finger joins the first.

His mouth leaves my cock and I can feel the metal ring sliding up and off. Within seconds, he takes every last inch of me in and I’m coming in a mind-numbing rush. My back arches up off the bed, arms and legs pulling at their restraints as he swallows around me, devouring every last drop. He withdraws from me and several long moments go by in silence, my heavy panting the only sound. My body trembles from the force of my orgasm, skin burning and dripping with sweat.

The blindfold finally comes off and I grin up at the face before me, normally bright blue eyes darkened with lust, face flushed, curly red hair matted with sweat against his forehead. He grins back, his patented Elvis-lip curled up, before leaning down to kiss me softly as he undoes the wrist cuffs. I immediately wrap my arms around him, fingers tangling in his hair as our kiss deepens, his hands stroking my face gently.

When we finally part, he nuzzles my lips with his own, then pulls back to untie my legs. I sit up, stretching a bit to loosen up my muscles, and giggle softly when I see the mess he’s made of both of us.

“Christ, Dale. Did you use the whole bottle?”

He smirks, his cheeks turning a deeper shade of red, “Almost.”

I flop back down, stretching out lazily next to him. He grins and wraps his arms around me, kissing the side of my head.

“And just think, that was just the foreplay.”


	10. In My Pocket

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: 40. Sight  
> Rating: NC-17  
> Completed: 12/2007  
> Summary: Dale keeps Jimmie entertained during the banquet.

I hate this.

I hate that he’s up in the hotel room watching this on TV.

I hate that he wasn’t able to give a speech tonight.

I hate that he’s not sitting next to me right now.

I hate that this should be an amazingly happy moment and I’m completely miserable.

Feel someone’s hand slide over mine under the table and glance over at Chandra, giving her a weak smile. Chani’s done so much for me the last few years. She’s been there for me through so many things, covered for me whenever I needed her to. She’s one of my best friends and if I were straight, if I didn’t have him in my life, I might actually think about marrying her for real. Of course I’m not straight and he is my partner so the thought’s obviously entirely out of the question. She squeezes my hand and I can see the sympathy in her eyes. I can almost hear her thoughts, “Poor boy. I know how you feel.” And really, she should. People might die if they knew she’s been sleeping with Malec all this time. Good old Ronnie, just as tangled in the knot of lies as the rest of us. Thank god for good friends. They’re really so hard to come by and lucky me, I’m surrounded by them.

I lean over and kiss her cheek, whispering a thank you in her ear and she smiles, knowing exactly what the thanks are for. To my right, Chad and Bruna are chatting happily with Mr. and Mrs. H and I can’t help but feel a pang of jealousy. Chad, the one who was always so resolute about keeping his private life private, is more than happy to show off his cute little girlfriend and no one cares. No one thinks twice about the fact that when she was still in diapers he was off banging trophy girls and building cars with his dad. But if I was to sit here at the head table, celebrating my championship with him by my side, we’d never hear the end of it. They’d call us fags and queers and boo us off stage. They’d run us out of the sport, out of town, out of the country if they could.

…okay maybe I’m exaggerating a little. I have the right to though, don’t I? It’s my party and I’ll bitch if I want to, dammit. This is my back to back championship and I should be sharing this moment with the man I love and not with a woman pretending to be my wife who would just as happily be up in the balcony with her boyfriend.

The vibrating of my cellphone brings me back to reality and I pull it from my pocket, fighting to keep the wide grin off my face when I see his name on the call ID. He’s sent me a text and I happily flip the phone open to read it. You look sexy in that tux, Johnson. He already told me that about a hundred times tonight but it still makes me smile. I almost didn’t make it down to the ballroom on time because he felt the need to show me just how sexy I looked several times over. I was still buttoning up my dress shirt when I walked out of the elevator with two minutes until the damn banquet was set to start because he tried to pounce me on my way out the door.

I love you baby. Wish you were here. Hit the send key and flip the phone closed but leave it carefully balanced on my leg as I know he’ll be responding as quickly as he can. This is what kept us sane last year, too. All the texts back and forth while I was up on stage playing happily married newlywed with Chani while he was down in the audience making faces at me all night. I almost started cracking up in the middle of my speech because he was making fish faces and giving his sister wet willies. I thought Kelley was going to knock his head clear off his neck if he hadn’t stopped when he did. 

Another set of vibrations tickles my leg and I all too eagerly pick up my phone to see what he’s sent me this time. My face flushes a little when I read the message; Makin’ me all kindsa hot’n bothered up here… I bite the corner of my lip and glance around me for a moment to make sure no one’s paying me any mind and start to text him back. The last thing I need is for the TV cameras to catch me fiddling with things under the table. They might think Chani’s got a hand down my pants or something. I smirk at that thought and hit the respond button, typing back to him.

Better not start the party without me, June. He hates it when I call him that. Something about how it seems like such a girly nickname for him, but can’t shake it because everyone’s too lazy to say Junebug. Of course, that doesn’t stop him from blushing and giggling like a schoolgirl every time I do. It makes me giddy to know I have some type of control over him from time to time. Usually it’s he who’s the take charge man in the pants in our relationship, but every now and then…

Fuck. The festivities are starting. They cue the music and things are underway at the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel in lovely New York, New York. Jay Mohr saunters on stage to do his thing and as usual most of his jokes bomb. It amazes me that they still bring this guy back every year. It’s pretty obvious most of us are bored with his stale routine and terrible attempt at NASCAR humor, but what does that really matter? He’s probably the cheapest form of entertainment NASCAR can find and that’s really all that matters to them. 

I bounce my leg impatiently as I wait for Dale to text me back. I can picture him in my mind, sprawled out naked across the bed we’d completely tore apart earlier in the evening, watching the TV intently even though he’d much rather be elsewhere. The season was rougher on him in ways that most people can’t even comprehend and the last thing he wanted was to have to suffer through this thing alone in a hotel room. I tried to convince him to come to the banquet and hang out with Jeff or someone else in the audience but he said he’d feel too out of place. He’d already given his acceptance speech at the Champion’s dinner and there was really no reason to sit through more speeches in a suit he was so uncomfortable in.

The phone going off again nearly makes me jump out of my skin. I’d gotten so engrossed in my thoughts I forgot it was still sitting on my crotch, out of sight of everyone but myself. I sneak a glance down in between following Jay’s routine and swallow down a groan when I catch sight of the words on the tiny screen. You kiddin’? Been jerkin’ off since you left. God damn, the things he can do to me without even being in the same room. I look back up when I hear my name and apparently I’ve missed out on a joke because everyone around me is laughing. I plaster on my sponsor smile and grin like the idiot I am until the attention is back on someone else. 

Chandra glances over to see what’s gotten me so distracted and lets out a snort when she sees Dale’s text. I look up at her and grin sheepishly, closing the phone without responding. Now that she knows what’s going on, she’ll be sure to keep a sharp eye on me to make sure I don’t get myself into trouble. We share a smile and she pats my leg and to the rest of the room we look like the happily married couple we pretend to be. Like we just shared some sort of unspoken secret.

As the speeches continue and the night wears on, I can feel myself becoming more and more agitated. This is all so boring, so routine, and I just want to move on. I want to go back up to the room and spend the rest of the night with Dale, relaxed in his arms in between rounds of wall rattling sex. Fuck, I want to get on a plane and fly back to North Carolina, hide away in our own little part of the world at Dirty Mo’ Acres. I know he misses his home just as much as I do and it kills him a little more every day that we’re not there. For all that he enjoys life’s little pleasures, Junior really is a homebody and to him there’s nothing better than locking himself away on his property. I can’t say I blame him. In the years we’ve been together I’ve come to call the Acres my home as well and I can see exactly what he sees in the town inside a town. Why leave when everything you need is right there? The house, the pool, friends and family, a dirt track, a golf course, even trails for our quads and dirt bikes. 

“Jimmie!” Chandra jabs me in the ribs with her pointy elbow as she hisses my name, a huge smile plastered on her face as she looks at the cameras. I jolt out of my reverie and force myself to focus on the world around me. Jeff’s just gotten up to the podium to give his speech and I can’t believe the night’s wore on so quickly while I was lost in my own little world. I quickly realize the cameras are on us and I snap back into puppet mode, doing all the little things I know I’m supposed to. I watch Jeff intently, seemingly hanging on his every word. It’s halfway through his speech that my phone starts to jiggle around in my pocket again.

Checking quickly to make sure no one’s looking, I sneak the phone back out and open up Junior’s latest text message. My eyes go wide and I can barely contain myself when a video starts to play. A rather scandalous video of Junior sprawled out across the bed, a hand around his cock as he strokes himself quickly, already close to an orgasm. I can see in his face just how close he is and I swallow hard, shifting in my chair as my pants become painfully tight. Luckily the sound on my phone is turned off because in seconds he’s coming undone and in my head I can hear him screaming and moaning as his back arches up off the bed.

“Jimmie what’re you…ohdeargod!” Chandra’s hushed whisper turns into a squeak and as she buries her face in her hands I look up, my face turning bright red when I realize she’s just seen Dale’s porno text. I bite my lip to keep from laughing, quickly shoving my phone back into my pocket. She finally manages to compose herself and when she straightens back up she punches me as hard as she can manage in the shoulder. I let out a tiny yelp and kick her foot under the table, which she rewards me for with a pointy heal to the toes. I jump and my knee bangs the table, causing everyone to my right to turn and stare at us. I give them a cheeky grin and wrap an arm around Chandra’s shoulders, apologizing for our goofy display of affection.

Everything quickly goes back to normal and before I know it it’s my turn to get up and stand at the podium. The only problem now is that I’ve got a raging hard on and the moment I stand up everyone’s going to be able to tell. I try to shift around in my seat, try to adjust myself so it’ll be less noticeable but nothing seems to work. Before I know it, Chani’s standing up beside me and we’re walking across the stage together and I can feel my phone going off in my pocket. The bastard’s calling me now so the vibrations will last longer. He’s doing this to me on purpose, trying to get me off in front of everyone. And Jesus, at this point I’m so worked up that I probably could get off like this. The vibrations continue on for what seems like hours and when they finally stop I have to swallow hard and force myself to act like nothing’s wrong. Chani and I receive our championship jewelry and she goes to sit back down and now I’m alone up at the podium with my phone once again going off in my pocket. I swallow hard and try to concentrate on the teleprompter in front of me, gripping the edges of the podium so tight I think I might be giving myself splinters.

When the phone finally stops I take a deep breath and go on with my speech, concentrating as hard as I can on the words in front of me. I thank my team and my friends and family. I thank Jeff and Mr. H and I’m just about to reel off my sponsors when he calls again. 

“Uggs…I mean, UGS, not the boots!” Fuck. He’s got me so worked up I can’t even read now! How the hell did I mess up my own damn sponsors? Uggs? What an idiot I am! Letting something like a vibrating phone and an image of Dale jerking off in my head get in the way of my speech. He’s so going to die the minute I get back up to the room. I manage to finish the rest of my speech without interruption and sigh in relief when the festivities come to a close. I go back to the table and Chandra immediately bops me over the head with her purse, teasing me about my new boots. I blush and tell her to fuck off as politely as I can before saying goodbye to those nearest me and turn to bolt offstage, sneaking out the back way so I can get back upstairs.

He’s so in for it.


	11. Full House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: 49. Club  
> Rating: NC-17  
> Completed: 03/2007  
> Summary: A game of poker leads to so much more.

Jimmie walked through the coach lot of Las Vegas Motor Speedway, looking around in wonder. The infield had gone through a complete transformation since the season prior and it was a small miracle the contractors had made deadline, considering how the place had looked less then two months earlier. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his Levi’s, sighing softly as he neared his empty coach. Chandra hadn’t been able to make it out for the race; there’d been a family emergency of some sort in Muskogee. He didn’t want to spend the night alone, but unfortunately it was his only option. Jeff and Ingrid went to see a show, Casey was fulfilling sponsor obligations, Brian went home when he failed to qualify. Marty was off being a dad, DiScala and Nick were no-shows, although he had a feeling the former was boozing it up with his new barely legal sextoy.

“Jimmie! Hey Jimmie!”

He stopped in his tracks, turning in the direction of a familiar southern drawl. Sitting between two coaches, congregated around a folding table were Matt Kenseth, Kevin Harvick, Tony Stewart, and - 

“Hey Junior…” Jimmie made his way over to the bunch cautiously. They weren’t enemies by any means, but they were far from sharing the same social group, “What’s going on?”

Kevin gave Jimmie his patented sarcastic smirk, holding up a deck of playing cards for him to see, “We’re knitting sweaters. Care to join?”

Brown eyes met green and laughter erupted from the Californians. Jimmie shrugged and made his way over to the table, “Sure, why not?”

Dale pulled out the chair next to him, giving it a “come sit” pat before opening the cooler to his right and pulling out a new round of beer for everyone. Jimmie hesitated only a moment before taking the seat, settling back into it as Kevin began dealing cards for a hand of Texas Hold ‘Em. Tony gave Jimmie a curt nod, “Entry fee’s twenty bucks.”

“Well damn, that about breaks my bank,” he chortled, pulling his wallet from his pocket.

Snickers rose from around the table but the Home Depot driver looked less than amused, “Pay up or shut up, pretty boy.”

With a roll of his eyes, Jimmie tossed a twenty into the center of the table and took the chips Matt slid over to him. Tony never was one to take a joke, even in a good mood. He took the beer offered to him by Junior and immediately downed half the bottle, which earned him an approving look from the red head.

Kevin flipped the cards for the flop and the small group quickly went into game mode. Jimmie took a glance at his cards and fought back a smirk - he’d flopped a four of a kind. Talk about beginner’s luck. He watched around the table as the guys placed their bets. Matt threw in a dollar, Tony saw it, Kevin raised it to five, and Dale saw him. Not wanting to make waves so soon, Jimmie saw the five and shifted uncomfortably under Junior’s intense gaze. He knew it was a scare tactic, trying to read his poker face, but at the same time it felt like something more. He tried to concentrate, half paying attention as Matt folded and Tony saw the raise.

When the turn card came out, Jimmie couldn’t believe his luck - a full house of Queens and Kings! It was on now. He wouldn’t be happy unless someone went all in with him. As the next round of betting began he could barely contain his excitement. Tony bet five, Kevin raised it to seven, and Junior doubled it to fourteen. He had what looked like fifty dollars sitting in front of him, more than the others each had, and Jimmie decided he was the target. If he wanted to win this hand, he had to take Junior’s chips.

“So JimmieBoy,” Dale drawled, giving him a cocky smirk, “You wanna keep playin’ or fold and keep your precious twenty bucks?”

Jimmie shifted as he felt a familiar ache in his stomach. Why the hell did Junior have to give him THAT look? He pushed all his chips into the pot, “All in.”

Suddenly the table came to life with excited hoots and hollers. Kevin banged on the table excitedly, “Man, we got ourselves a REAL poker game now!” He met Jimmie’s raise, along with an impressed looking Dale. Tony folded, rolling his eyes at Kevin’s over-excitement.

Junior gave Jimmie a playful shove, “Flip those cards man, lets see what ya got!”

All three flipped their cards over simultaneously and Jimmie didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Kevin was obviously out; he’d had only the pair of queens in the flop. Junior had two pairs; the queens and two aces. If the third Ace came up in the River, Jimmie would be out after only one hand.

“Woo! It’s on now!” Matt exclaimed, slapping his knee, “You better pray to whatever god you believe in for anything but an Ace, Jimmie!”

Jimmie gripped his beer bottle tightly as Kevin tossed a card to the side. Before he could flip the river card, Junior sprang up from his chair, “WAIT!”

All four men jumped and looked at him in surprise. Without saying a word, he pushed the rest of his chips into the pot. Jimmie swallowed hard. If he lost this hand, not only would he never hear the end of it, but he’d be in the hole to Junior, which was not a place he wanted to be.

The tension mounted and things seemed to move in slow motion as Kevin dealt out the river card. Junior leaned forward with his hands on the table as Jimmie wrung his hands and bounced his legs nervously. The card turned over and - 

“ACE OF CLUBS! YEAH BABY!” Junior let out a victorious whoop and Jimmie slouched down in his chair. Laughter and good-natured taunting started up, but before Junior could demand his money, Matt and Kevin’s cell phones began to ring. It was their wives, no doubt, which meant that playtime was over.

Everyone cleaned up after divvying out their winnings and headed off in the direction of their coaches. Jimmie tried to sneaked off but Junior caught him by the arm, “Hey, hey, hey! You owe me thirty-four dollars, JimmieBoy!”

Jimmie groaned softly, “I don’t have anymore cash on me, Junior. I’ll give it to you when I get to an ATM.”

The trademark Earnhardt smirk appeared on his face, “Well then I expect collateral.”

“Collateral?” Jimmie gave him an incredulous look, “The hell do you want, my first born?”

“Over thirty-four bucks? Hell no, I want something better’n that,” Junior laughed, a hint of danger in his voice.

Jimmie was getting nervous, “What do you want, Junior?”

The mischievous red head pulled Jimmie in close and whispered into his ear, “Want you to suck my cock, Johnson.”

Jimmie’s mouth went dry as all the blood drained from his face. He pulled back and stared at Dale wide-eyed, “WHAT?! No! No fucking way, Dale!”

“Either ya suck it or I fuck ya, but either way ya ain’t leavin’ till I’m comin’ inside ya, JimmieBoy,” Dale had a firm grip on his arms, his usually bright blue eyes darkened to a dangerous sapphire.

Jimmie tried to yank his arm from Dale’s grasp, but he held firm, “Dale, please. I’m married and I’m-”

“Straight?” The North Carolinian snorted, “Sure, and Santa Claus is real. I’ll say it one more time, Johnson, and then you don’t get a choice. Suck me off or I fuck you. What’s it gonna be?”

The brunette swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest. Sure, he’d hooked up with guys a few times, but he’d always been “drunk”. He wasn’t even sure he could get it up for a guy while he was sober.

Dale tapped his foot and hummed the Jeopardy! theme, taunting Jimmie without saying a word. Jimmie chewed on his lip, panic rising in his chest. Dale always played games with him; flirted, made innuendos and dirty remarks, but never had he been so forward - or serious. Deep down he was pretty sure NASCAR’s most popular driver knew the champion wanted him, but he also thought the feelings might be reciprocated. After all, why else would he be doing this?

“Time’s up, Johnson. What’s it gonna be?” The larger of the two tightened his grip, licked his lips suggestively.

Swallowing hard, Jimmie mustered up as much confidence as he could manage, “Fuck me, Junior.” His voice wavered slightly, but the tone was all business.

Dale’s eyes lit up momentarily, his face showing the briefest glimpse of excitement. Without a word he tugged Jimmie up onto the coach and dragged him to the bedroom. They came together simultaneously, arms tangling around one another, lips crashing together in a bruising kiss. Dale pinned him against the wall, hands dragging down his chest and abs. Jimmie pulled away long enough to yank Dale’s shirt over his head, a smirk forming on his lips as Dale mirrored his actions. They reached for one another’s jeans, removing them in almost perfect unison. Jimmie arched an eyebrow in impressed surprise when he discovered the Bud driver was going commando. Dale smirked back at him, quickly yanking his boxers down to join the pile of clothing between them.

Before Jimmie would even try to react, Dale shoved him onto the bed, urging him onto all fours. Jimmie watched over his shoulder as Dale grabbed a bottle of lube and a condom, silently surprised that the older man was still playing it safe.

But then, this WAS Junior and he DID sleep around. God only knew how many diseases the man would have if he didn’t use the condoms.

The feel of two strong hands on his ass brought the Californian back to the present. He watched as Dale poured some of the lube onto his fingers, rubbing it in a bit before slowly pressing one, then another into him. Jimmie bit his lip softly, gripping the comforter tightly in his hands.

Dale sensed the man beneath him tensing up and frowned slightly, but made no move to stop. He worked his fingers against him slowly, curling them a bit to hit his sweet spot. When Jimmie let out a gasp and jerked back against him, he knew he’d found it.

After several moments, Dale withdrew his fingers, replacing them with the head of his cock. Slowly, he entered his latest sextoy, moaning softly as the hot tightness surrounded him. Once he was fully sheathed, he waited a moment for the man beneath him to adjust before pulling out almost entirely.

“Oh FUCK!” Jimmie let out a strangled cry when, without any warning, Dale slammed back into him. Pain flowed through his body and it felt like he’d be torn in half. He gripped the comforter tightly, eyes screwed shut as he fought back tears.

Lost in his own pleasure, Junior was oblivious to Jimmie’s discomfort. He continued his assault, fingers digging into his skin as he rocked his hips harder against him. Angling his thrusts a bit, his snuck a hand around to grasp Jimmie’s cock in his hand, jerking him in rhythm with his thrusts.

As soon as Dale touched him, Jimmie could feel the pain subsiding and the pleasure taking over. He forced himself to relax a bit, thrusting forward against Dale’s hand. He moaned softly as Dale’s cock brushed against his prostate, his own cock twitching with pleasure.

“Fuck, Dale,” he whimpered, “So fucking good…”

Dale smirked, stroking him harder as he thrust into him faster, “Y’like that Jimmie? My cock feel good in your ass?”

Jimmie moaned in response, grinding back against him with every thrust. He could feel his groin tightening, his body burning with the need to release. He hung his head, thrusting harder into Dale’s fist.

“Dale…Dale please…” he begged, body trembling.

“Say it,” Dale commanded, squeezing his shaft tightly.

He breathed in sharply, pushing back against every thrust so he’d penetrate him deeper, “Dale…god…wanna come…”

The hand on his cock tightened, stroking him faster as the cock buried inside him hit his prostate over and over, “Do it, Jimmie. Come for me, Now.”

Jimmie gasped, his entire body rocking with the force of his orgasm, his seed spilling over Dale’s hand. Black spots appeared in his line of vision as he moaned loudly, pressing back against Dale as he felt the dominant man explode deep inside him.

The two collapsed onto the bed, panting heavily as they sprawled out on their backs. Dale tilted his head to look at Jimmie, smirk planted firmly on his chiseled face.

“Straight, huh?”

Jimmie blushed, “Yeah well, you know…”

“Yeah…yeah I do…” he pushed himself up, heading for the bathroom to dispose of the condom, but stopped in the doorway, “When you’re walkin’ funny tomorrow, let it be a reminder that you owe me money, JimmieBoy.”


	12. Autumn Leaves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: It’s mornings like this I’m thankful for all I have.   
> RATING: PG  
> Prompt 64: Fall  
> COMPLETED: 09/10/08

I love this time of year. I love the way the weather starts to chill and the leaves start to change colors. I love it when they fall to the ground and you can crunch through them while you walk. I love how the air smells sweet and crisp. I love that hunting season is right around the corner and I can’t wait to clean off the huntin’ gear for another trip into the woods. This has always been my favorite time of year, for so many reasons; my birthday, Halloween, Thanksgiving and our annual family reunion all squished together within a couple of weeks time. When I was a kid, it meant Daddy season was close. Meant no racin’ for a few joyful weeks. Daddy would be home and I’d get to spend time with him, instead of wishin’ he was around all the time.

Halloween’s always been a highlight for me. I loved pumpkin picking and carving Jack-O-Lanterns with my friends. Grammaw Martha always made the best pumpkin pies and baked pumpkin seeds. I liked trying to carve my name into the pumpkins. I liked smashing them even more. One year, me and some buddies found Daddy’s sledgehammer and took out about twenty Jack-O-Lanterns before we got caught. Daddy didn’t know whether to laugh or kick my ass. Teresa was pissed, so he ended up knocking me senseless. He gave Snooter a good thump upside the head too, for laughing while I got my licks. Of course, when Teresa went inside Daddy clapped me on the back and winked a twinkling blue eye at me. He hated Jack-O-Lanterns, they attracted hungry critters.

My favorite bit about Halloween wasn’t the costumes, or the debauchery we got up to. It was the candy. The one day a year when you could knock on a stranger’s door and ask for candy. I used to get a truckload, too. Enough to have me on a sugar high through Thanksgiving. I’d give Kelley the few candies I didn’t like and the rest I’d hide all over my room. Once, Teresa found melted Hershey’s bars in my sock drawer. Couldn’t sit for a week after that one; was worth it, though. Only wish it’d been my underwear drawer, instead. THAT woulda gotten an awesome reaction out of her.

I smile softly at the memories floating through my head, sticking my hands in the pockets of my Adidas jacket. Kick at the leaves under my feet and look up at the trees, full of their bright yellows and oranges. I’ve been along my quad trails for nearly an hour now, just taking in the day. It was barely sun up when I left the house, and now the sun’s shining through the branches above my head. I caught a Robin building a nest earlier, all bright feathers and happy songs. Must be settling in for the winter months. Couple squirrels crossed my path, too, gathering up food for the season. It’s mornings like this I’m thankful for all I have. Not many places where I can find this kind of peace and quiet. It relaxes me being alone with my thoughts like this. Always has. Much as I love my life, all the hustle and bustle, there ain’t nothin’ like a good ol’ country mornin’ to get my heart pumping.

Won’t be long before the frost sets in and everything turns white with snow. I’ll get to sit on the porch swing with a steaming cup of hot chocolate, watching the flakes fall, blanketing the ground for miles. Snow always makes this place quieter than usual. All the animals curl up in their nooks and crannies to sleep the cold away. The trees have no leaves to rustle when the wind blows. The snow eats up the sounds that usually echo through the fields. It’s an eerie sort of quiet, but I like it all the same. It reminds me of sitting in deer stands with Daddy, waiting on the perfect buck. 

I drove Daddy crazy on our first couple of hunting trips. Was impatient and fidgety, whining about being bored every five minutes. I didn’t understand that the wait was the greatest part of the hunt. All the anticipation and excitement over catching sight of those antlers peaking out of a bush, eight or more of ‘em, high and regal; King of the Forest. Can still remember the look of pride on his face the first time I bagged a big ol’ ten pointer on my own. Threw an arm around me and pulled me into one of those overwhelming bearhugs, shaking me and laughing with glee before damn near jumping out of our tree to check him out. I’d been fifteen, maybe sixteen, and it was the highlight of my life. I’d never seen Daddy so proud of me before. It had me soaring for days, every time he’d regale one of his buddies with the story of my triumph. Hearing him so proud of me made me proud. It took a lot to make him that happy. Don’t think he ever was that proud of me again, up until my first win at Texas. Then he left my ass there to find my own way home.

Continue along the bumpy, swerving path through the trees, breathing in the rich scent of tree sap and fallen leaves. Another squirrel runs by me, a chipmunk pops its head out of a pile of leaves, and far above my head a bird squawks. Smile softly and let out a contented little sigh, round a sharp turn. Well, sharp on a quad, anyway. By foot it seems ridiculous that we nearly always flip coming around the bend. Keep close to the inside of the turn path, toe some rocks out of my way, and duck under a low branch. A sudden urge to climb comes over me and I reach up, wrapping my arms around the massive tree limb. Lift myself up, using the trunk to kick my legs up higher and then flip myself over the branch, squirming around so I can sit on it. Climbing trees seemed easier when I was a kid. I can feel muscles burning already, my hands scraped up from the rough bark; all good aches that send a surge of life pumping through me.

Having made it this far, I can only decide to keep going. Carefully, I get to my feet, leaning on the trunk for balance. There’s another limb within reach and I stretch out for it, easily pulling myself up. I’m nearly thirty feet off the ground now, exhilarated by this new sense of adventure. Above me, seven feet or so, is a V in the trunk, perfect for sitting. A new surge of determination has me looking for a way to reach it. There’s a few small branches in arm’s reach but none seem sturdy enough to hold my weight. Glance around and finally find a limb that seems safe enough and reach for it, tugging a little to see if it’ll hold. It doesn’t budge so I grab it with both hands. I have to sort of lunge myself at it, dangling on my belly until I can swing a leg around to pull myself up to straddle it. My body trembles with the adrenaline coursing through me and I let out a cheer of triumph. Get to my feet carefully and grab onto the V, easily able to tug myself between the split trunk.

There’s no leaves this high. My view is unobstructed and all I see is acres and acres of my land; rooftops, treetops, grass for miles. It’s overwhelmingly beautiful from up here. Might just have to make this my new hang out. Bring up some beers and hang ‘em in a bucket off a branch, kick back and let the day pass. No one would ever think to look for me in a tree top. Hell, I’d never think to look for me in a tree top.

From somewhere below, I hear dogs barking and laughter that can only be coming from my nieces. Not wanting to be caught climbing trees, I start my descent, carefully picking branches that’ll support me. Takes half the time to get down that it did to get up and I reach the low branch just as Stroker rounds the turn, his long legs flying about awkwardly. He’s damn near as tall as I am and when he spots me, he jumps up excitedly, his front paws landing on the branch. I laugh and rub his head, flopping his ears back and forth as he howls at me happily, seemingly proud of himself for winning this round of Hide and Seek.

“Uncle Junior! Were you tree climbing?” Karsyn, eight now and more like her momma every day, runs to me, “Can I climb, too? I’m a good climber!”

A smile breaks out on my face and I hop down, urging Stroker down as well, “Was just sitting, half-pint. No climbin’ here, too dangerous, your momma will kick my a-” stop myself, “…butt.” We got over the cussin’ hump years ago. No need to revisit that now, “What’re you doin’ here, all alone?”

“Unky Jooner!” Jimmie rounds the corner with Kennedy, almost three now God help us all, on his hip clapping excitedly, “Found you!”

“So ya did!” Stoop down to rough up Killer a bit, my first ‘son’ and still so cool after years of new ‘siblings’, “Trackin’ dog after all, huh? There’s hope for you yet, boy.” He yawns and plops down in some leaves and I snort, pushing myself to my feet, “…or not. What’re y’all doin’ out here?” Take Kennedy from Jimmie; Unky J, she calls him, still in the babytalk stage, but at least we can understand her a bit better now. Lift her up onto my shoulders and hold her sides to keep her steady as she reaches for leaves dangling on a branch above her head.

“Search and rescue mission, duh,” Jimmie gives me a wink and a soft smile, “The dogs were whining at the back door so I let them out and they bolted into the trees. Karsyn said they were on your sent and we should follow them. So here we are.”

“Here we are!” Kennedy echoes, giggling as she drops leaves on my head. I laugh and tickle her sides, rewarded with shrieks of laughter from her tiny, yet powerful lungs.

“Uncle Junior, Momma said you’d make us breakfast and my tummy’s hungry for Cap’n Crunch!” Karsyn rubs her stomach and looks up at me with long-practiced puppy eyes.

“Oh she did, huh?” Give Jimmie a questioning glance and he shrugs, a look on his face that tells me it’s not something for little ears to hear, “Well lets go find some then!” I begin walking the trail again, putting Kennedy on my hip as we go. Jimmie falls into step with me, his left hand sliding into my right, fingers lacing instantly. It’s so easy to be comfortable like this here, where everyone knows and doesn’t care. “Privately public” he called it once. Karsyn runs a few feet ahead of us, picking up sticks and throwing them for Stroker. Killer walks languidly at my side, always to the left of me.

“Good walk?” Jimmie gives my hand a squeeze, glancing over at me. He’s used to waking up alone this time of year; he knows how much I love it. After six…almost seven…years together, it’s not a surprise. He knows just about everything, one of the lucky few.

“Mm, suppose so,” decide not to tell him about the tree as we walk out of the trail, into the field separating Kelley’s house and mine. Ours, now. Everyone thinks I just wanted a change, but really renovating was my way of solidifying Jimmie’s place in my life. He has just as much input on the new house as I did. Honestly wouldn’t have it any other way. Can't wait for it to be done. We moved back in a month or so ago, but it still needs the finishing touches. The crew comes in while we're racing on weekends to fix up the last of the cabinets and fixtures, repainting here and there to make it all perfect. Waiting on some furniture, too; nothing we can't live without, but like to have all the same.

"So what's the deal with my sister?" I let go of Jimmie's hand to pull the back door open, waiting for Karsyn and the dogs to run in before following, making my way to the half-finished kitchen. Jimmie starts pulling out bowls and spoons, setting them out on the table for the girls while I get Kennedy settled. Karsyn pulls herself up onto a chair and takes the box of cereal Jimmie offers her, dumping some into her bowl. A few pieces miss completely and skitter onto the floor, where the dogs pounce on them.

"Said something about the Uni-Lever press conference. Seemed really tired, though…" He leans against the counter, watching me get a bowl prepared for Kennedy. She digs in and he smiles softly; we both resigned ourselves to the fact that this is the closest we'll get to being parents years ago, "I guess your step-sister was running late to pick them up and Karsyn's off from school today so she was pretty frazzled."

"Always somethin'…" My sister's notorious for taking on more than she can handle. Part of it is my own fault for never knowing when to ask if she needs help, but it's mostly that she's all Daddy and thinks she can conquer anything without help. She's as stubborn as he was, maybe more so, "She say if we're keepin' them all day?"

He gives me a sheepish grin, "I, uh…offered…so, yeah, we have them until she gets home…" He knows damn well I don't have a problem with this. I'd do anything for my girls.

"So who wants to go jump in some leaves after breakfast?" I grin when Karsyn immediately gets excited. The day is too damn gorgeous to pass up. Ain't no way I'm hiding in the house when my favorite season's in full bloom.  
 


	13. Fire and Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: “You. It's always about you! Me this, me that! My win, my team, my feelings! God, you have the nerve to accuse me of not caring?”  
> RATING: R for language  
> Prompt 66: Rain  
> COMPLETED: 3/26/10  
> NOTE: This takes place after the spring race in Bristol when Junior completely blew up on the radio at his crew chief, Lance Mcgrew, over a comment Lance made after a pit road speeding penalty.

For the first time in my life, I've been experiencing the most incredible feeling in the world. Not love, not hate, not happiness or sadness. No, for the first time in my life, I'm feeling doubt; apprehension. I'm second-guessing everything, every choice I've ever made. It's a horrible feeling. Every morning I wake up with a brick in my stomach and a weight on my shoulders heavier than the day before. I can feel the confidence I worked so hard for crumbling down, brick by brick. I don't know what to do with myself anymore. I don't know what to do to change things. Every day it feels just a little worse than the day before. It's getting harder and harder to get out of bed, to face my life. It's pathetic and I hate it but I just can't handle the mediocrity anymore. I want things to change for the better, but it seems like no matter how hard I try, it just keeps backfiring. Last week in Bristol I hit my breaking point.

I've been accused of a lot of things in my life; drinking too much, partying too hard, staying out too late. My daddy used to hound me about the people I considered friends. He questioned my work ethic a time or two. My sister is forever telling me what a lazy slob I can be. Jimmie insists I don't know what a hamper is. My momma, well, what hasn't she accused me of? I can handle all of that. I can even handle the fans and media who insist I ain't got what it takes to be a champion. But what Lance said to me over the radio on Sunday, it hit a raw nerve and I lost my shit. I blew up like a damn atom bomb and once the fuse was lit there was no stopping me. Even I was surprised by the shit coming out of my mouth. Don't think I've ever been that angry behind the wheel before. Of course, no one's ever accused me of lying down before.

After the race, I tore out of my car and booked it back to the bus. I was so angry that I didn't even notice Jimmie in Victory Lane. Looking back now, Mike was doing his damndest to try and tell me, but every time he even tried to form a sentence I cut him off with a dirty look. Wasn't until I got on the coach that I realized Jimmie wasn't around. Usually he made it back before I did. I was about to text him asking where he was when Mike uttered two words - Victory Lane. I could feel myself crumbling, but I couldn't stop myself from hitting the floor. The emotions were overwhelming. There he was again, winning, and there I was again, floundering. Not even the 7th place finish- not even the 8th in points -could console me. Try as I did to be happy for him, I just couldn't do it. Could only sit there and doubt myself. Mike waited as long as he could, but after a while I suppose he got sick of my tantrum. Not that I blame him. I was acting like a foolish child. He'd grabbed his stuff and mentioned catching a flight home with TJ on Rick's jet.

By the time Jimmie got back from the media center, I was showered, changed, packed and ready to go. The disappointment was clear in his eyes when they landed on mine. I hadn't gone to Victory Lane, hadn't even texted him a congrats. He'd gone to the bathroom without a word, showered, and emerged several minutes later ready to go home. I'd gotten the bright idea to drive home, hoping the roadtrip would help me blow off some steam. Instead, we were about an hour from home, the first half of the trip in complete silence, when the sky opened up on us and rain pelted down so hard and so fast that I couldn't see an inch in front of my face. The tension that had been so suffocating only seconds earlier suddenly dissolved, shattering around us like a piece of fine china. I slammed on the breaks, swerved onto the shoulder, and turned to look at Jimmie, his shocked expression mirroring my own.

"Well I'll be damned, the fuckin' sky's falling!" I stared out the window in total awe, "We ain't goin' nowhere in this, babe. Can't hardly see the road."

"I saw a sign for a park and ride a mile or so back…we're only a couple feet from the exit, want to chance it?" His eyes locked on the small bit of space outside the car lit by the headlights. If there was a park and ride out there, we had no idea.

"Might have better luck if we were in an arc, but I'll chance it if you want me to…" I saw him nod out of the corner of my eye and flipped the wipers as fast as they would go before inching back onto the highway.

We did manage to get to the rest stop without incident and I parked the Tahoe off in a corner, away from a quickly forming crowd of cars. I flipped the engine off and pushed my seat back a bit, propping my feet up on either side of the wheel. I could feel Jimmie's eyes on me as mine drifted closed, lulled into a comfortable doze by the rain pounding down on the truck.

"I missed you in victory lane today…" his voice was soft, barely audible over the steady pounding, "I was hoping you'd show up but you never did…"

I rolled my head toward him, eyelids heavy as I forced them open, "Hadn't even realized you'd won, honestly. Was in too much of a fury when I got outta the car, booked it to the coach before anyone could get a hold of me for a damn interview."

The hurt was there in his eyes in full force and I regretted my choice of words instantly. He turned away from me, looking out the window but not before I could see the tears slipping down his cheeks, "I really thought this year would be different, Dale. Thought maybe you'd at least pretend to give a damn."

My gut turned to stone at his words, "What's that supposed to mean, Jimmie? You think I don't care?"

His voice trembled a bit, "Well you couldn't even be bothered to find out where I was, Junior. An hour in Victory Lane and another in the media center, and how many times did you text me, or call me? God, even BV came to congratulate me! Do you even know how much today meant to me? It was my 50th win, my first here, and you couldn't even text me a good job!"

I could feel the blood in my veins boiling, teeth clenching as my jaw set tight. Through gritted teeth I managed to get out, "You. It's ALWAYS about you! Me this, me that! My win, my team, my fuckin' feelings! God you have the nerve to accuse ME of not caring?!" I was sitting bolt upright by then, all the anger from earlier burning through me again, "When's the last time you so much as gave me a goddamn pat on the back, Jimmie? How often do you even ask about my runs?"

A full minute went by before he finally turned back to me. I could see the tears running down his cheeks, looking like silhouettes from the windshield in the dark of the truck. My eyes locked on his- fire meeting ice -and held his gaze for a long while. The anger continued to plow through me as we sat silent, staring one another down. Every instinct in me said to either hit him or run. My fists clenched on my lap, shaking with the rage pulsing through me. My head throbbed, screaming at me to take off.

"Y'know what? Fuck this shit. I'm done," before he could respond, I threw open my door and jumped out of the truck, slamming it shut behind me. The rain was coming down in sheets and in a matter of seconds I was soaked to the bone. It was freezing out, and halfway across the lot I was shaking, teeth chattering as I headed for the McDonald's several hundred feet away.

"Junior! Dammit Junior, stop! Wait!" A hand grabbed onto my right arm and I yanked it away instinctively, snapping around to face him. Whatever words were on his lips died the moment he saw the malice in my eyes, but he took a breath and reached for my arm again. He had to yell over the rain pelting the pavement but the desperation was clear in his eyes, "Junior, I'm sorry. Come back to the truck, you'll freeze out here!"

I clenched my jaw, trying to hide the fact that my teeth were chattering, but I know he saw right through it, "Why? So you can tell me how selfish I am for leaving you behind?" I was still on the defensive and it was going to take more than puppy eyes to get me back in the Tahoe.

“Junior, please. I'm begging you. I'll get on my knees if that's what you want! Just please, come back and talk to me. I love you. I didn't mean to upset you."

My eyes flashed, trying to hold onto the anger, "You never mean it, Jimmie. It's never on purpose; it's never your damn fault, right? I'm sick of hearin' it, Jimmie. Sick and god damn tired of your shit!"

His gaze softened, even as his grip on my arm tightened, "Junior, come back to the truck. Your lips are turning blue, you can yell at me there if you have to, just come back with me."

I wanted to protest again but my feet betrayed me as he began to lead me back, one foot falling numbly in front of the other. Instead of opening the driver's door, he pulled open the trunk, quickly pushing the back seats down so we could have room to stretch out. I climbed in without a word, silently grateful to be out of the freezing rain. The door clicked shut and we were once again enveloped in the silence of the storm. Before I could comprehend it, he was undressing me, peeling soaking clothes from my body, before cocooning me in the blanket we always kept in the trunk. I watched on dumbly as he undressed and joined me in the warmth of the blanket.

"I really am sorry, June. You're right, I was being a first class asshole," he shifted in closer to me, sliding between my legs, his back to my chest as I rested against the side of the truck. Out of instinct my arms slid around his waist, all my anger slowly melting away.

I didn't respond for a long while and Jimmie made no attempt to continue. My eyes drifted shut again, listening to the steady rhythm of the rain, the last bits of tension melting from my body. When I finally found my voice again, it was soft, barely a whisper in his ear, "Y'know, Lance accused me of laying down today. Told me I have a tendency to give up when shit goes wrong. I blew up at him, lost my fuckin' mind. All the damn people that listen to the radio, and he humiliated me for all of them to hear. I've never given up in my life and there he was, tellin' me that's what I was doin'. Between him and that bullshit speedin' penalty, I was out of my mind. It was like I was watching it all happen from the passenger seat, just couldn't shut myself up."

He shifted in my arms so he could look up at me with sympathetic eyes, "You just had a bad day, June… it's gonna get better. It already is. You finished 7th today. You're 8th in points, you know. Just take a deep breath and let things happen. You had a slump but now you're coming back and I'm proud of you- So proud. You put up with a lot more than any of us do. You're going to be alright," his hand came up to brush my cheek, eyes filled with love and adoration. It was hard to believe I'd been angry with him only minutes earlier. That's how we are, though; hot and cold, all day long.

"I love you, Junior," his lips brushed over mine and that's all it took to put the day behind us. We'd spent the night in the back of the truck, waiting out the storm, and the next morning pried ourselves apart so we could get home. The Acres were a welcome sight, literally a shelter from the storm.


	14. Monday Mornings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Ain’t nothin’ quite like catchin’ fish on a Monday morning out on the lake.  
> RATING: PG  
> Prompt 69:Thunder  
> COMPLETED: 07/11/08

Monday mornings on the lake have always been a favorite of mine. Always loved to pack the boat with a bucket of baitfish and an oversized tackle box full of hooks and lures, a cooler full of cold beer tucked in between the seats up near the controls. Usually have two or three rods along for the ride, early morning just as the sun’s comin’ up. Can still hear the crickets chirping, the morning breeze caressing my skin, calm little waves lapping at the side of the boat in a sort of soothing rhythm. The motions of tying a hook to the line, baiting it up with a fish or two, still alive and squirming as it fights to breathe in the early morning air, it’s almost therapeutic. It’s one of the few things I know so well I can do it in my sleep. Haven’t cut myself with a hook since I was a kid. Not since the time Pops laughed so hard at my howling and carrying on that beer shot out his nose, which made my daddy laugh so hard he damn near fell off the boat. That was the time Daddy dragged me to the hospital for a tetanus shot and told me that if I stabbed myself with another of his hooks he was going to start charging me for the doctor’s visits. I was nine or ten at the time, and when I saw the price on the bill, I made damn sure I knew how to bait a hook the next time we went out.

Those Monday mornings happened less and less the older I got. Daddy got busy with racing and then Teresa, then he had Taylor and all his time was devoted to a little sister I never wanted and quickly grew tired of. I’d been the baby for so long that it pissed me off to suddenly have my tiny shred of time with my Daddy cut down to a sliver. I used to think up ways to get rid of her, but nothing ever worked. Of course, having Taylor around was nothing compared to Oak Ridge. When they tossed my ass into Military School, I thought for sure life was over. Thought Daddy hated me so much he didn’t even want me in the house no more, even when he wasn’t around. Surely our time on the lake was gone for good. Every now and then though, he’d pull the tackle box out of the garage and off we’d go in his boat. Out onto the lake, rods and baitfish along for the ride. We’d sit in silence for hours, him and me, just casting and recasting until our arms got sore or the fish started to bite. I cherished every second out on that boat.   
   
As time went on, I learned to enjoy going out onto the lake alone. I’d load up my boat and head on out to my favorite little spot, cast out a rod or two, and kick back with a beer while I waited for a fish to bite. I’d sprawl out across the bench at the bow of the boat and sip on my beer, watch the world around me, listen to life floating by. Neighbors on jet skis and in motorboats would occasionally zip by me, spraying up a wake in their passing. Every now and then I could here kids splashing around on their docks, smell some charcoal or mesquite wood grillin’ while someone threw a cook out. I reveled in the feeling of being aloof, being so disconnected from the world around me that I could just act as a bystander to the whole thing. Being out there always got me thinking, always got the wheels in my head turning and shooting off in a million directions. My little spot on the lake was a little place in heaven. It was peaceful and serene and everything about it put me at ease. Made me wonder if God had a place in heaven just like this, for all the good ol’ southern boys like me and my daddy. A patch of eternity on a lake filled with fish and boats, enough rods for everyone. It seems silly to think about it anywhere but out on the boat.  
   
More and more, I’ve appreciated this one little luxury in my life more than any other. No matter how hard things get in the real world, I can still come out onto the boat and relax for a few hours. Even if I don’t catch a damn thing, even if I run out of beer, even if the water is choppy and it’s cold out, I can still take comfort in knowing that this is my place and these are my memories keeping me safe and warm. I’ve never taken anyone else out here with me, not since Daddy died. I always felt like having someone else here would piss on everything he and I ever had together out here. All the little father/son moments we shared, no matter how trivial. I remember the first time I tasted beer, snuck from a can he’d left sitting open on the edge of the boat. How I gagged at the taste, and then Daddy made me chug the rest of it to teach me a lesson. Can remember our awkward sex talk; how he threw a rubber at me and warned me if I ever knocked a girl up out of wedlock like he and Kerry did, he’d tear me a new asshole. Can remember all the times we just sat and stared out into the sky, fiddling with the casts and listening to the sounds of the lake around us. I take comfort in knowing that no matter how little we said, we both knew how much those moments really meant. How big they really were for us both.  
   
Up until lately, I’ve never had any desire to bring anyone here with me. Whether I was winning races or on my 90th week without a trip to Victory Lane, it didn’t matter. Even with all the stress of leaving DEI and moving to HMS, I still wanted to be alone out here. No one, not Snooter or Martin, not Kelley or Kerry, not even the love of my life have been out on this boat with me since Daddy died. It’s far too sacred to have another body in here with me, sharing the space that was once his and mine, knowing full well he’ll never be able to make the trip with me again, out here to our spot. At least, not physically. I swear there’s times when I can feel him sitting beside me, kicking back in his favorite chair with his fishing rod propped up on his thigh, a cold can of Budweiser in one hand and the reel in the other. Every now and then I can hear his sigh, that contented little puff of air he’d let out when things were quiet and perfect, both of us trapped in a moment we didn’t want to leave. Every now and again when I feel a bite at one of the hooks, I can hear him in my mind, yelling at me to bring ‘er in slow and easy; pull it back and reel it slow, pull it back and reel it slow. Not too hard now, not so fast, or you’ll lose him. Don’t wanna lose him, Junebug.  
   
Sit up suddenly when one of the rods starts to bend, the line going taut. I know right off I’ve got something and quickly dash to the other side of the boat, snatching up the ancient rod. Sit myself down in one of the deck chairs I always bring along and prop a foot on the side of the boat as I fight to bring the fish in. Pull the rod back and spin the reel, just like Daddy taught me, repeating the motions over and over until I can see the fish, wriggling and fighting, the hook in his mouth and poking out through his gills. I’ve got him good and no matter how much of a fight he puts up, this baby’s mine. I let out a triumphant hoot as he breaks the surface and swing the line into the boat, grabbing it close to the hook as I prop the rod back up where it’d been sitting earlier. Quickly go about unhooking the fish and toss him into a bucket of water, watching as he floats for a moment, obviously stunned by the whole ordeal. After a minute he flicks back to life and starts spinning in circles, looking for a way back out. Sorry pal, but you’re tonight’s entrée.  
   
Watching that fish swim in circles reminds me of the last year or so of my life, all the spinning in circles I did. Going from one shop to another, trying to find the perfect place to root myself. Owner after owner, team after team, always knowing where I wanted to be, but not knowing how to get there. Rick was a real lifesaver, doing what he did to get me into his company. I’m not sure if he knows just how grateful I am. Just how grateful Kelley and Tony Junior and Pops are as well. Not to mention my company, my teams, all my employees. We all know we wouldn’t be where we are right now if Rick hadn’t stepped in and given us a hand. I sigh softly and run my fingers through my hair, grimacing when I realize my hands stink of fish and now my hair does too. Guess I’ll just have to take a shower when I get back to the house.  
   
Can see the property from way out here on the lake. Some of it, anyway. Houses popping up here and there, the gas station, the stables, a hole or two from the golf course. My house way up on a hill toward the middle of the acres, looming over everything like a castle in the middle of some medieval kingdom. My castle. My kingdom. My world within a world, where nothing exists that I don’t want. Family and friends at every turn, animals galore to roam at their leisure, plenty of toys to play with for everyone. Were it not for the lack of a grocery store, I’d never leave my land on my days off. Hell, even my shop was on the property for a while, until we had to expand it. Now it’s nestled in with HMS, safely tucked away under Rick’s watchful eye. I really couldn’t be more thankful to have him in my life. He’s always been there in some respect, but now it’s so much more substantial.  
   
Sigh softly when thunder rumbles off in the distance and I know it’s time to get back to the dock. The clouds have been dark and heavy with rain all day, the air thick with a mustiness only possible during a southern summer. The thunder rolls again and I go about pulling all the lines up out of the water, reeling them in so they don’t tangle, and pulling hooks out of their knots so I don’t wind up cutting myself on them when I carry them back to the garage. Close up the tackle box and pile everything neatly in a corner before pulling the anchor up and flipping the engine on, letting it idle a moment before pushing up the lever and steering the boat back in. I just manage to get it tied to the dock when the first lightning bolt lights up the sky in a jagged line over the trees at the far end of the lake. Talk about your perfect timing. I climb out of the boat and gather up all my things, loading them up into my military issue jeep before climbing in and heading back up to the house. Usually I wouldn’t shift out of first, I’d barely drive over ten or fifteen miles an hour, but with the rain threatening to pour down at any second, I floor the gas and take off, smoothly shifting up to fourth.   
   
I reach the house just as the first drops start to fall and quickly pull into the garage, leaving the door open so I can watch the storm as I unload everything and put it all away. The thunder claps louder and the lightening sparks brighter with every passing minute and soon the rain is coming down in sheets so hard I can barely see through the downfall. The drops hit the ground and splash apart, seeming to bounce back up off the concrete. Take a deep breath in, loving the smell of a summer storm, and lean back against the jeep to enjoy the show playing before my eyes. Ain’t nothing in this world quite like nature taking its course.   
   
Before too long I know I’ve got to get inside and take care of the fish from earlier. There’s three of them swimming ‘round in the bucket, just enough to feed me and the man I know is inside waiting patiently for me to come home again. Chances are he’s heard me clattering around in here, or else he’s puttering around by the back door, pacing back and forth while he worries about whether or not I’m still out on the lake. He’s an eternal worrier, always finding something to fret about, and I happen to think it’s one of his most endearing qualities. It’s cute the way his eyebrows knit together and his forehead creases, his bottom lip gripped tightly between his teeth as his hands tangle in the hem of his shirt. Nervous little habits that I’ve grown to love over the years. And I’ve had plenty of years to learn to love it all.  
   
Finally manage to tear myself away from the spectacle before me and dump some of the water from the bucket down the driveway, watching a moment as it mixes in with the rain and drifts away. I lift it up and carry it inside, coming in through the kitchen door, where I kick off my shoes and set the bucket down. Doesn’t take long for Tux and Buddy to come running in, the two of them fighting for first glimpse into the bucket like a couple of kids in a toy store. I grin and scoop them both up, carrying them out of the kitchen before they can help themselves to a dinner buffet. The grin on my face breaks out into a full blown smile when I spot him by the porch door, his back to me as he stars intently into the downpour for some sign of me. Set the cats back down and sneak up behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist, nuzzling at his neck.   
   
“Lookin’ for somethin’, Johnson?” Lace my fingers together and press light kisses up his neck and along his jaw, smiling softly as he relaxes against me, his hands immediately coming to rest on my own. I close my eyes for a moment as I breathe him in deeply, my face buried in the crook of his neck.  
   
“Oh, nothing in particular. Was just-“  
   
“-worried? What else is new, baby? I walk out of the room and you worry I’m gonna trip over my shadow like you do,” I’m only teasing and he knows it. Of course, the fact that we can complete each other’s sentences isn’t overlooked in the slightest. Six years together and it still amazes me how we can be inside of each other’s heads like this. It’s a comfort I won’t ever take for granted.   
   
“Actually, I was going to say I was just wondering who the hell let the swamp thing into the house. You reek, June. Go take a shower and I’ll do something about the fish before the cats help themselves to an all-they-can-eat dinner,” he turns in my arms, smiling playfully before kissing the tip of my nose and wriggling away from me, “Prefer it when you smell like sex and Budweiser, personally.”  
   
I smirk and reach for him again, laughing and chasing after him when he darts out of the room and up the stairs, “That can be arranged, Johnson!” Laugh as I catch him at the top of the stairs and toss him over my shoulder, carrying him into the master bathroom.  
   
He giggles and tries to wriggle out of my grasp, “June, the fish! C’mon the cats are gonna get their dirty paws on them and then we won’t have anything for dinner tonight!”  
   
Turn the shower on and wait a second for the water to heat up before carrying him in, the both of us still fully clothed, “Fuck the fish, Jimmie. I can catch some more next Monday.”  
   
And I will, too. Ain’t nothin’ quite like catchin’ fish on a Monday morning out on the lake.


	15. Rumors & Gossip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: 76 - Who  
> Rating: G  
> Completed: Circa 2005  
> Summary: Jimmie vents after finding a trashy tabloid rumor about Dale.

“So. Now you’re getting engaged? What’s next, you’re going to be a father?”

Jimmie paced the length of the coach in frustration, hands flying as he ranted at the redhead staring wide-eyed at him from the couch. It’d been two hours since they’d seen the trashy tabloid article sent in an email to Junior’s private account. He’d laughed it off but Jimmie took it to heart. He always took it to heart when it involved he and a woman being linked romantically.

“So who is it this time, Dale? Some pit lizard? One of your friends from another town? Who’d they link you to this time?”

Junior rolled his eyes and said nothing. He couldn’t understand why Jimmie got so worked up over rumors and gossip.

“Dammit Junior, say something! How can you be so calm when people are spreading lies about you?”

Jimmie stopped pacing and turned to stare down his partner of four years. They locked eyes and he silently admitted defeat. Junior was too stubborn to let him win. He flopped down on the couch and was immediately wrapped in two strong arms. He leaned into him, closing his eyes for a moment.

“Will you at least tell me who? Don’t I deserve that much?”

After a long moment of silence, Dale finally spoke, “It don’t matter baby. You’re the only one I’ll ever want.”


	16. Let Me Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: What if Rick had scolded Junior over the events in Richmond? Takes place after the Kyle Busch spin incident.  
> RATING: PG-13  
> Prompt 77: What?  
> COMPLETED: 09/11/08

"Sir? I…yessir. No, sir. Yes…yes, I understand. No, sir, it definitely won't happen again, unintentional or not. Yessir, you've got my word. Thank you, sir. I won't let you down."

Hang up the phone and lean back in my chair, staring up at the ceiling as I try to force back the tears. I've never heard Rick so upset or disappointed in me. Richmond was a complete accident, but it could have been avoided and we all know it. Part of me WANTED to spin the little shit out. I spent the rest of the race bitching and complaining, screaming and yelling about everything. Did exactly what Rick told me not to do. I never realized what a jerk I was until I came to work for him. He's made me listen to a bunch of my radio transmissions and sometimes I can't even believe it's me talking.

"Junior?" Jimmie tapping on my office door pulls me out of my daze and I turn to look over at him, hoping he don't notice I've been trying not to cry. He steps into the room, closing the door behind himself before crossing the floor to come sit on my lap behind the desk. My office is one of a handful at HMS that isn't made of windows, so we usually have plenty of privacy in here. His arms slide around my neck as his lips wander over my jaw, "Missed you this morning…why'd you leave so early?"

Wrap my arms around his waist and nuzzle his neck, breathing in a scent that is 100% Jimmie. My fingers trace light circles just under his shirt, my lips ghosting over two day old stubble before meeting his lips in a soft kiss. We linger there for a moment before he pulls back to look at me, waiting for a response. I shrug and tighten my arms around him, "Killer was whining to go out so I went for a walk with him. Couldn't get him back in the house so I shoved him in the truck and headed over here without really thinking about it. Had to talk to Pops anyway, so it all worked out."

He pouts a little before kissing along my neck, "I would've come with you. Should've woke me up…" His fingers run through my hair, curling and tugging, just how he knows I like it. My eyes drift shut as familiar tingles run through my body, and I know it won't be long before he kicks this into full gear.

"Sorry, baby, just didn’t want to wake you…" Slide my hands up his back and tilt my head to give him better access to my neck. After the lecture from Rick, it feels good to have this kind of attention. Letting him down is almost as bad as letting my daddy down and that's not a feeling I can live with.

"June?" Jimmie comes to a halt and pulls back to look at me, eyes wide with concern, "Baby, are you crying? What's wrong? What happened?" His thumbs brush over my cheeks, and shit, I didn't even realize I'd started to cry! He wraps his arms tight around me, murmuring little nothings into my ear as I force back the rogue tears. I ain't no fuckin' crybaby, especially over something this stupid.

"I'm fine, Jimmie. Really. Just got something in my eye," he hates when I do this, but I can't help it. I ain't the type for sharing feelings and singing Kumbaya. My daddy was a stoic and so was his daddy. I ain't no good at breaking blood ties. Crying is a sign of weakness and I ain't ever gonna have anyone thinking I'm weak.

"June, c'mon baby. Talk to me. You know you can tell me anything…" he always does this. Been together since my daddy died and it still ain't gotten through his head that I ain't no open book like he is. He's the one that likes to pour his guts out, not me. At least, not without a couple drinks in my system first. He never gives up, though. Always keeps at it, hoping he'll eventually crack the dam and release the flood.

"Jimmie, don't. Just let it be, a'right? Nothing's wrong, I ain't cryin' and I ain't upset over nothin'," Clench my jaw and narrow my eyes at him, daring him to pry some more. His lips press together in a tight line and I know instantly this is going to turn into an argument if I don't have him smiling again in under a minute. Tickle his sides and kiss his cheek softly, "I love you, baby. I'm sorry, a'right? Didn't mean to go snappin' at you, just been one of those days."

"Yeah," he slides off my lap and walks to the door, hands in pockets and shoulders slumped, "See you tonight, June. Stopping at my parents' house for a few hours, Dad's still upset over Grams. Could use some company," he gives me a pointed look and I know he wants me to invite myself along, but I'm just not in the mood to play therapist tonight.

"See you at home, then. I'll leave the light on for you," Keep my eyes trained on the desk, knowing full well he's either pouting or scowling at me, "Gotta take care of the animals, looks like it might rain tonight. Wanna get them in the stables." Glance up at him against my better judgment and the irritation is clear in his eyes. We're definitely going to fight tonight.

"Fine, Dale. Do what you have to do," I know I'm in trouble when he uses my given name, "I'll be home whenever. Have fun with your livestock." He pulls the door open and before I can reply he's out the door and down the hall. I could easily get up and go after him, but a public display with him is the last thing I need or want right now. I'll just duke it out with him when he comes home tonight, maybe get some angry sex out of it.

Just as I'm resigning myself to the fact that I'll be in the doghouse tonight, the door flies open and Jimmie comes barging back in, bee lining over to me. I go to stand up but he throws himself into my lap, holding my face in his hands as he kisses me deeply. I kiss him back hard, my arms wrapping around him, crushing him to me.

When we part, he drops a kiss to my forehead before getting back up. He walks to the door again, stopping before walking out. He turns to me, a tiny smile tugging at the corners of his lips, "Love you, June." With that, he leaves again, this time leaving me with a lopsided grin and a weight off my chest. Guess the sex won't be quite as angry tonight as I thought.


	17. Wasting Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: It’s been one of those ridiculous weekends where we can’t keep our hands off each other and I can’t find it in me to care.  
> RATING: NC-17  
> Prompt 78: Where?  
> COMPLETED: 12/31/09  
> NOTE: I started this fic back in September after attending the Chevy FanFest event in Richmond on raceday morning. The appearance included Q&A’s with Richard Childress, Jeff Gordon, Tony Stewart, Jimmie Johnson, and Dale Junior. Tony overslept and so everyone else got shuffled around to cover for him, leaving Jimmie with a five minute appearance while Junior wound up last with about twenty minutes to kill. It set my mind in overdrive and this is what happened.

   
 _Chevy FanFest  
Richmond, VA_

 

“Junior…Junior we have to go…baby…baby, fuck…stop…” Tug hard at scruffy auburn hair, fighting to maintain my thought process as the hot, wet fire of his mouth works over my cock, sucking and teasing just how he knows I like it. Mike’s been banging on the door to the coach for nearly ten minutes now and pretty soon he’ll start calling, too. He knows damn well what’s going on right now, or at least, he has a pretty good idea. I gasp and dig my nails into Junior’s scalp as he swallows down every inch of my cock, sucking as hard as he can, throwing my head back and moaning his name as I come. He pulls back after a moment and looks up at me with a shit-eating grin on his face, licking his lips as he pushes himself to his feet.

“Told you we’d have plenty of time,” he winks at me and gives me that crooked grin that made me fall in love with him as he fixes my pants for me, patting me on the ass just as his phone starts to ring, “Now go on and do what ya gotta do because I’m horny as hell, Johnson.”

“You’re terrible, June,” drop a kiss to his cheek and make sure I’m presentable before running off the coach and to an annoyed looking duo of publicists. Mike shakes his head at me as he walks onto the coach and I climb onto my golf cart with Kristine, who gives me an “I can’t believe you” look as we speed off to the Chevy Fanfest stage on the opposite side of the track. We’ve been in Richmond since Friday morning and Junior’s had me late for just about every appearance I’ve had so far. It’s been one of those ridiculous weekends where we can’t keep our hands off each other and I can’t find it in me to care in the least.

By the time we reach the stage, I’ve got enough time to sign a few autographs before Ricki Rachtman is calling me up onstage. Turns out they were in a rush to get me here because Tony’s once again overslept and they needed someone to take up his time. I really had fifteen more minutes to enjoy with Junior and they got cut short because fatass can’t roll out of bed before 3pm on a Saturday. I’ll worry about that later, though. Right now I just need to get through this Q&A so I can get back to my extracurricular activities.

I’m on stage for barely five minutes when Ricki’s informing us all that I have to go because Jeff’s just showed up for his turn in the hot seat. Who am I to argue with the man who signs my paychecks? I wave a goodbye to the crowd and head off the stage, giving Jeff a pat on the back as we pass by one another. I sign a few more autographs before jumping onto my golf cart with Kristine, steering us back in the direction of the coach lot. Overall that appearance was pretty pointless but it’s part of my obligations so I can’t really complain too much. I’ve done worse stuff than a five minute Q&A.

When we get back to the coach I can’t help but chuckle softly when I see the rented Tahoe parked outside. Far be it from Junior to ride anywhere on a golf cart. No, my baby has to ride in style, no matter where he’s going, the high maintenance fuck that he is. I hop off the golf cart and climb back onto the coach, smirking a little when I walk in on an impromptu Madden competition which has both Junior and Mike wrestling around on the couch as they try to out-cheat one another in a game of Redskins vs. Panthers. They’re already in the fourth quarter and with a score like 7-90, there’s obviously been plenty of cheating going on. Junior’s notorious for learning as many cheats as possible and using them all on you before you can blink.

“Junior you shit! Stop it with the hyperspeed bullshit and play the damn game!” Mike throws an elbow to Junior’s gut and gets rewarded with a controller to the back of his head. I laugh and head to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of Gatorade from the fridge. I know better than to even try and get involved in these spats.

World War 3 ends when Mike’s alarm starts going off on his iPhone, a Christmas present from Junior last winter. He got one for every member of the posse, his mom and sister, and of course one for me as well. They turn off the game and start for the door, but Junior turns to me before he leaves, giving me a devious look that I know well, accompanied by a wink, “Hey Jimmie, how’s about you take a ride with us?”

Mike’s eyes narrow at his driver, “Junior whatever the hell you’ve got planned forget it. We’re already late and I’m not gonna cover for you while you get a blowjob in the backseat of the damn Tahoe!”

He gives Mike a mock-innocent smile, “Blowjobs? I never said nothin’ about gettin’ a blowjob, but if you insist…”

Before I can respond Mike’s got Junior by the arm, manhandling him off the coach and onto the Tahoe. Against my better judgment I follow after them, climbing into the backseat while Mike gets behind the wheel. The truck’s a more upscale model, fully loaded with a nav system, DVDs in the headrests, and the darkest tinted windows I’ve ever seen in my life. Before I can even try to make a comment about any of it, Junior’s in my lap and his lips are pressed hard to mine, his hands everywhere all at once. I gasp into his mouth, body arching into every touch as my own hands tangle in his hair.

It’s only a five minute ride from the coach to the stage but it takes less than that for Junior to get his pants undone and me onto his lap with my pants around my ankles. Mike knows exactly what’s going on and avoids looking in the rearview, turning the radio up obscenely loud to cover any noises that are sure to be coming from the backseat. He parks behind the stage and dives out of the truck, making sure to take the keys with him and lock all the doors. The locks click and Junior takes that for the starting bell of round two, tossing me onto my back across the seat, my legs up over his shoulders as he slicks himself up with the lube he always carries in his pocket.

From outside the truck I can hear someone asking Mike where Junior is and Mike muffles some sort of excuse about an important phone call from back home, insisting he’ll just be a couple of minutes. I go to make a crack about it when suddenly Junior’s buried inside of me to the hilt and all thoughts leave my brain. I gasp and bite down on my hand to stifle a moan, my other hand coming up to tangle in his hair as he leans over me, thrusting hard and fast, both of us knowing we don’t have much time. Outside I can hear someone talking over a sound system, telling the fans Junior’s on his way and the crowd erupts, not a hundred feet from where we’re parked. My heart pounds in my chest, the danger of the situation only adding to the intense pleasure coursing through me.

“God…baby…” My eyes lock on Junior’s as he speeds up, grinding deep into me with every thrust of his hips, my hands gripping tight to his as he bends me in half, “Fuck, so good June…”

Watch as his eyes darken to a deep sapphire, the look of pure ecstasy on his face bringing me closer and closer to the edge. We’ve been together for years and he knows how to drive me wild with even the smallest of gestures, and today is no different. All it takes is a few well-aimed thrusts, his fingers tangled with mine, and that look on his face. The way his eyes burn into mine, looking right through me, right into my soul, knowing everything I’m feeling without either of us having to say a word. I can feel myself reaching the edge when one of his hands comes down to wrap around my length, stroking me hard and fast, his calloused thumb running over my head, rough on smooth, sending jolts of pleasure coursing through me, ending in a white-hot flash of pure pleasure. He kisses me long and hard, both our moans muffled in the other’s mouth as we find our release in perfect unison. I cling to him, my entire body shaking as I feel him explode inside of me, hot and wet and oh-so-fucking perfect.

He collapses on top of me, effectively ruining his Amp t-shirt and I can’t help giggling a little at the thought of him going on stage with my come all over his shirt. He pulls from me slowly, setting my legs down gently as he fixes himself, smirking a little at the mess on his shirt. He pulls it off and hands it to me so I can clean myself off, watching as he leans over the front seat and grabs a plain white t-shirt from the passenger seat. Apparently, he came prepared for something like this. I give his ass a smack before he sits back down and he wiggles his eyebrows at me suggestively. I lean over to kiss him softly, fingers threading through his hair, giving it a playful tug before sitting back.

A fist suddenly pounds on the back window and the locks click up a second before the door swings open. Mike peaks his head into the Tahoe, a look of fear and trepidation on his face, obviously hoping he doesn’t see more than he bargained for. The relief is clear on his face when he sees us fully clothed and a good distance apart, “Junior c’mon man, they’re waiting on you.”

Junior pulls on an Amp hat and his sunglasses before hoping out of the car, the fans erupting in waves as the first few spot him and the ones further back catch on. Mike gives me a smirk and waves his finger at me in a “shame on you” motion before closing the door and leading Junior to the stage. I watch through the tinted windows while Junior does his Q&A, smiling softly at how comfortable he looks up there. He always complains about how he hates being the center of attention, but you’d never know it.

Several minutes later, he’s back in the truck with Mike and we’re heading back to the coach. With all our prerace obligations taken care of for a while, we can go back into hiding with no interruptions. There’s still two hours until driver intros which leaves us with plenty of time to enjoy one another’s company. Mike gives us a warning look as we leave the Tahoe, “If y’all aren’t fully clothed and waiting for me outside when I get back here in two hours, I’m storming in there fully armed with video cameras and half the media center.”

Junior chuckles and gives him a wink, “Don’t worry Mike, we’ll be outside when you come back. It’s a beautiful day out, I kinda wanna enjoy the scenery.”

With that Mike speeds off and Junior gives me a devious smirk, “C’mon baby, we got two hours to kill and plenty of surfaces to rechristen.”

How can I possibly say no to that?


	18. Dancing with...NASCAR?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: HMS meets Dancing with the Stars for a charity event.  
> RATING: PG-13  
> Prompt 81: How?  
> COMPLETED: 09/06/09

   
 _Charlotte, NC_  
 

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this. HOW did you talk me into this? I don’t want to do it. Call them and tell them I’m sick with the plague or something. Tell them I have dysentery. I don’t CARE if it’s for charity; I’m NOT dancing around on stage like some freakin’ fairy! I don’t CARE if other drivers have done it. I ain’t dancing around in tight pants and sequins so America can laugh at me!”

Junior stalked back and forth in the dance studio that would be used for the night’s special Dancing with the Stars event in Charlotte, his face bright red with embarrassment and anger. When Mike had mentioned joining his teammates as part of a charity event, he figured he’d be a judge or guest host. He never imagined he’d be the one taking dance lessons. Now, too late to back out, he verbally assaulted his friend and PR man while his HMS teammates watched on. They each wore a range of emotions on their faces; everything from sheer amusement to utter disdain. This was supposed to be fun, a bonding experience even, and the junior Earnhardt had done nothing but cry and carry on from the moment he stepped foot in the studio. Even the crew chiefs, some of who were used to his tantrums, looked horrified at his childish display. Lance shrunk down into his chair as Junior paced by him once more, slinging enough curses to make a sailor blush.

“Junior, you need to calm down,” Jeff pushed himself to his feet, fully prepared to take one for the team. He spoke evenly, in as calm a voice as he could muster, “You’re acting like a child and it’s making us all look bad. You’re here and there’s nothing you can do to change it now, so suck it up and at least try to enjoy yourself.”

Not used to being put in his place, Junior stopped short and gawked at his teammate as a hush fell over the room. No one could believe what had just happened, especially Jeff.

Before another word could be uttered, the studio door swung open and in walked several people. Some were decked in suits, others in sweats and warm up clothes. Junior swallowed hard – this was it. The rest of the group all gathered along a wall opposite a wall of mirrors and he joined them begrudgingly. He could only be thankful that this was a one-night-only event and not an entire season. With the hustle and bustle of all their schedules, it was a shock they’d all made it together on this particular day.

“Hello everyone!” One of the men in sweats greeted them with enough energy for everyone in the room. He was tall and slender, and flamboyantly gay. Junior cringed as he continued to speak, explaining to them how the day would go. Each driver would be teamed with his crew chief and taught a dance. Each pair would perform later on that night in front of a packed house and a slew of television cameras. Junior snuck a glance at Lance, his interim crew chief, and suppressed the urge to gag. He’d rather dance with his cousin, or with Jimmie. The corners of his lips twitched in a secret smile as he peaked at Jimmie in the mirror. They’d been messing around for months now, on and off. It could be a hell of a time dancing with him, considering how much practice they had doing the horizontal mambo.

It wasn’t long before the duos were teamed up with their own choreographers and picking dance styles from a hat. Jeff and Stevie picked first, laughing and sharing a high five when the four-time champ pulled out hip-hop. Everyone groaned; it was a well-known fact that the veteran HMS driver loved to break dance when he was drunk. This would be a breeze for him. Next in line were Mark and Alan. Their card read swing and the eldest of the stable chuckled and joked about being tossed around like a rag doll.

The only two left, Junior and Jimmie eyed one another nervously. Their host held the prop hat out to Jimmie and he reached in, pulling out his paper as Chad teased him about getting something good. He unfolded his paper and blinked in confusion, asking what Broadway meant. Chad rolled his eyes and clapped him on the back, leading him off with their choreographer.

“Last but not least!” The host thrust the hat into Junior’s face and he sighed, pulling out the remaining card. Without looking, he handed it to the host, who took it with a chuckle and unfolded it, showing it to the room at large, “SALSA!”

“WHAT?!” Everyone in the room fought to stifle their laughter. The image of Junior and Lance dancing a salsa together was dangerously entertaining and Nascar’s most popular driver looked ready to implode. He turned on Mike, fire in his eyes, “That’s it, I’m OUT! I ain’t dancin’ no fuckin’ Salsa with LANCE!”

Mike rolled his eyes, “Then don’t, Junior. We’ll pull out so you can look like an asshole.”

Caught off guard, Junior stopped yelling, “…really?”

“No, asshat, you’re dancing. If you don’t want to do it with Lance we can see about replacing him, at the very least.”

Lance nodded emphatically in agreement, wanting to be a part of this about as much as his driver did, “Yeah, definitely! No hard feelings, Junior! We can find someone else!”

Suddenly, a calculating smile appeared on Mike’s face, “And I know just the guy…”

* * *

While the remaining three teams went off to learn their routines, Junior waited impatiently for his replacement to arrive. Mike had been secretive about who he was calling in, telling him the wait would be worth it. Junior’s mind raced through the possibilities, from crew guys to the new secretary. When the door to the studio opened nearly an hour later, his eyes widened and he shot up excitedly out of his chair, running to meet his new partner.

“SNOOTER!” Everyone stopped what they were doing and turned to stare as Junior leapt at Josh Snider, who lifted him up in a bear hug and spun around laughing.

“You really think I’d let you have this much fun without me, man?” Josh teased his best friend, setting him back on his feet.

Junior laughed and clapped him on the back, turning to give Mike an approving grin, “You’re a genius, Davis.”

“That’s why you pay my the big bucks, Little E,” With a wink and a nod, Mike wandered off to take care of some pressing matters on his Twitter, continuing a battle he’d started with TJ Majors earlier in the morning. The choreographer assigned to Junior and Lance made her way over tentatively, afraid to be the victim of yet another tantrum, but was happily surprised to be greeted by a now smiling and excited Junior.

“Alright, let’s get this over with so I can go back to pretending I only dance when I’m drunk,” he kidded, still happily clinging to his best friend. The choreographer smiled and led them to an empty side of the room, explaining their dance and what they’d be doing that evening. The boys listened attentively, occasionally laughing or cracking a joke. It was going to be complicated and tiring, but together they were certain they could at least attempt to pull it off.

From the other side of the room, Jimmie stole glimpses of Junior and Josh dancing together, jealous pangs reverberating in his chest every time they hugged or shared some sort of inside joke. He knew the two were best friends, and that they had a history. He also knew that he and Junior were strictly a casual under-the-table couple, but it still hurt to see him with someone else. They’d gotten together several times in as many weeks and things always seemed to slam to a stop right before it could get too serious. Junior was adamant about not wanting a real relationship and Jimmie was married so he tried to keep it as casual as possible but sometimes it was hard to keep his feelings out of it.

“Jimmie! Jimmie would you pay attention!” Chad gave his driver a gentle shove to get his attention, amusement clear on his face as he received a dazed, questioning look in response to his shove. Jimmie’s normally wide eyes were even wider with confusion, eyebrows knit together above them, “Stop zoning out, we only have three more hours to get this thing down. Focus, dude. Focus.”

Jimmie rolled his eyes and grumbled a “Yes, master” as they went through their routine yet again, their choreographer yelling out counts and complicated names to moves he still couldn’t remember. It was no secret that of the four HMS drivers he was the least coordinated and this day was proving to be no different. Three steps into the number he was tripping over his toes, feet fumbling to keep up with the rest of his body as he tripped his way through. Cursing under his breath, he regained his composure and made it through some of the more complicated steps without issue. When he went to jump on Chad’s back for their big finale, he stumbled once again and the two wound up face down on the polished wood floor. Chad grunted and shoved Jimmie off of him, rubbing his back where Jimmie’s knee had made contact.

“You are without a doubt the biggest spazz on the planet, Johnson.”

* * *

“I AM NOT WEARING THAT!”

“Junior, come on! It’ll be fun, we’ll match! The girls’ll get one hell of a kick out of it, too.”

“Yeah, because they’ll be able to see what damn religion I am, man! This is ridiculous, why the hell do we have to wear skin tight pants? And with CHEETAH PRINT on them?”

Three hours and four routines later, the drivers and their partners were off to the costume trailer to get suited up for the night’s show. Jeff and Stevie had gotten lucky with their hip-hop dance and got to wear baggy jeans and football jerseys. Mark and Alan were given black trousers and button down white shirts for their swing number. Jimmie and Chad were wearing comfortable brown slacks with suspenders over white shirts, brown fedoras on their heads to go with their Gene Kelly routine. Junior was less than thrilled to learn he and Josh were going to be wearing skintight pants and matching shirts lined with cheetah print to salsa in. He’d finally warmed up to the idea of dancing but the costume was two steps back for the driver.

Seeing his opening, Jimmie made his way over to Junior, sliding up behind him to whisper into his ear seductively, “I think you look sexy, Junior…those pants show off that amazing ass you’re always hiding…”

Momentarily forgetting his annoyance with the costume, Junior turned around to face his sometimes lover, “You would enjoy staring at my ass, you horny twink…”

“Junior! Junior, c’mon man, it’s our turn!”

Jimmie scowled as Josh once again cut off any chance he had of getting close to his object of lust. It seemed like every time he got a moment alone with Junior that day, someone was dragging him off somewhere, or stealing all of his attention. It was getting more frustrating by the second. Junior smirked at the look on Jimmie’s face and gave him a pat on the ass before running off with his right hand man.

“Jimmie, really man, could you be any more obvious?” Chad came to stand next to his driver where he stood in the wings, leering at Junior as he and Josh got ready to dance, “Someone’s going to slip on the puddle of drool you’re making.”

“Fuck off,” Jimmie glared daggers at Chad before turning his attention back to the duo on stage. They began dancing their salsa to “Everything I Can’t Have” by Robin Thicke and he couldn’t help but find the irony in their song’s title.

Out on stage, Junior was fighting the urge to burst into hysterics with every step he took. He could barely keep the count and yet Josh was dancing circles around him, leading him all across the stage. Every turn was embellished with some ridiculous face or flamboyant wave of his arms. Finally, Junior couldn’t take it anymore. He burst out laughing and by their big finale, Josh was fully supporting his weight so he wouldn’t collapse from the laughter. He struggled to keep calm as the judges- Larry McReynolds, Darrel Waltrip, and Rick Hendrick –critiqued them, and then ran off stage to a riotous applause.

Backstage, the rest of the HMS camp applauded and cheered for their most popular driver and his best friend. By now, Junior’s face was bright red with embarrassment and exertion; he leaned heavily on Josh, brushing away tears of laughter that continued to slide down his cheeks. He’d made a complete fool of himself but at least he hadn’t been out there alone. Josh’s chest rumbled with laughter, his entire body shaking as he guffawed and carried on about what tools they’d made of themselves. Jeff smiled at the sight, clapping them both on the back before taking his turn out on stage with Stevie. If everyone was being honest, their routine was going to be the one to beat. Out of all the teams, the veteran driver and his crew chief had gotten the best dance and had been having the most fun learning it all afternoon. The rest of their teammates gathered in the wings to watch, just as they’d done for Junior and Josh.

By the end of the show, all eight contestants were huddled up in the back, anxiously waiting for the judges to tally up their scores and announce the winners. It was no surprise that Jimmie had face-planted at least six times throughout the course of his routine, and shockingly enough Mark and Alan had pulled through with a decent swing. They’d left the stage to a standing applause, although most of them felt it was more out of relief that the eldest of the drivers didn’t break anything or wind up in an ambulance by the end of the routine. They all watched through the curtains as the audience rumbled quietly, talking amongst themselves as they too waited for the results.

“Ladies and gentlemen, can we have your attention please? We’d like you all to put your hands together as we bring out your contestants one last time!” The audience exploded as their MC walked out onto the stage. He called off the teams one by one, starting with Mark and Alan. They ran out into the spotlight to a round of applause, waving and bowing as they went. Jimmie and Chad were next, to a mixture of boos and cheers. Chad insisted all the booing was for Jimmie and the audience cheered in agreement. Third out were Jeff and Stevie, who once again received a standing ovation. Jeff beamed with pride as he watched the fans get to their feet; he definitely hadn’t expected this reaction. Finally, Junior and Josh were announced and as they walked out onstage, Junior’s face one again turned a magnificent shade of red. He ducked his head and waved awkwardly, laughing when Josh started leaping and spinning across the stage. Ever the ham, he knew just how to steal the show.

Once all the performers were on stage, the MC called for the judges, one by one. They each came out and took their seats, passing down their scoring sheets to the MC. He looked them over quickly, grinning as he read the results. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, it’s my pleasure to announce the results of tonight’s first ever Dancing with the Stars NASCAR edition!” He let the audience applaud for a moment before looking back at the results in his hand, “In fourth place tonight, the Number 5 team of Mark Martin and Alan Gustafson!” 

Mark and Alan stepped out of line and walked to the MC as the audience cheered for them. They took a check for 25,000 dollars, and Mark announced that his winnings for the night would go to the Ronald McDonald House charity. He and Alan stepped to the side and the MC once again looked at the results.

“In third place…not a place they’re used to coming in, by the way…are the number 48 team of Jimmie Johnson and Chad Knaus!”

Jimmie and Chad took their turn with the MC, announcing that their 50,000 dollar prize would go going to the Jimmie Johnson Foundation. The crowd applauded once again, a “Chad” chant rumbling through the crowd. Chad laughed and bowed before walking over to join Mark and Alan with Jimmie. The MC stood between the remaining drivers, turning to each of them in turn, “Are you ready to find out who NASCAR’s most talented dancer is, boys?” Jeff and Junior both nodded and shook hands, sharing a laugh as they waited to find out who the winner of the night’s event would be.

“Alright folks, it’s time to find out who’s going to be taking home the 100,000 dollar grand prize for the charity of their choice! And the winner is…” The MC paused dramatically, looking down at the scorecard one final time, “Jeff Gordon and Steve Letarte!”

The entire building erupted in cheers and boos as Jeff and Junior looked at one another in complete shock. Stevie let out a hoot and lifted Jeff up, spinning him around as he celebrated their win. The MC gave them a moment to let it sink in, going to talk to Junior and Josh in the meantime.

“Junior, you busted your butt today to learn your routine. You seemed to have a lot of fun tonight, how does it feel coming in second to Jeff?”

Junior shrugged, absently picking at his cuticles as he spoke, “Aw, y’know…it was all for fun and for charity so it don’t really matter who won and who didn’t tonight. My 75,000 is going to the Make-A-Wish Foundation tonight, so that’s all that it comes down to, I guess. I don’t know how I managed to get myself into this, but at the end of it, it was all pretty cool. Couldn’t have done it without my best friend, Josh, though.”

Josh scooped Junior up then, swinging him around the stage as the MC went to get in a final word with Jeff and Stevie. When Junior was back on his feet, he gave his friend a hug, whispering a thank you in his ear. All eight dancers came together at center stage and joined hands, giving the crowd a final group bow before running backstage again.

When all the festivities were over at the end of the night, Junior walked out to his car with Mike and Josh. They climbed in and headed back to the safe confines of the Dirty Mo’ Acres, laughing and reliving the day’s events. Junior gave Mike a playful punch in the arm, “Man, I don’t know how the hell y’all got me to do that, but don’t ever try anything like it ever again. That’s the last time I make a fool of myself for charity.”

Mike gave his driver and friend a devious grin, “Does that mean no celebrity Are You Smarter than a Fifth Grader next week?”


	19. Complete

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: 82. If  
> Rating: PG  
> Completed: Circa 2006  
> Summary: Just some inner musings from a championship contender.

If I don’t win the championship this year, I don’t know what I’ll do. For nearly five years now, I’ve been busting my butt, doing everything in my power to win. We’ve always fallen short in a painful way. 8 points, a blown tire. Stupid little mistakes that cost us. Not even a four win streak in the middle of the chase could get us up to that head table where so many men have sat before me. It made me sick to see Kurt up there, when we all knew it should have been me and my team in his place. Dale always gets frustrated with me when I start to complain. When I start to play the “What if” game while we’re at home away from the track and away from work. It drives him nuts that I’m already ahead of the game and he’s still struggling just to stay in the chase, and yet I still find reasons to complain and worry and whine about everything. I can’t help it though. It hurts so bad to have come so close so many times and leave disappointed. Up until Tony’s stupid winning streak last season, I thought we had it. I knew we could come back and take what was ours and then that damn tire blew at Homestead and with it went the last bit of hope I had. I was inconsolable.

This season, things are different. After that rough start with Chad getting booted and Darien taking over, I thought we were doomed. But instead we did the seemingly impossible and won Daytona. We won Vegas, we won Talladega, we won the Brickyard. We’re consistent and low stress and just taking things one race at a time. I try not to worry so much about staying first in points. I worry more about Dale. About him making it into the chase and making up for last season. As tough as last year was for me, it was worse on him. All eyes were on him, all the critics poked and prodded, all the nay-sayers spoke up and beat him down. He was worn down to nothing by the time Homestead came around. It killed him, watching his season slowly flush down the tubes the way it did. He constantly spoke of giving up and walking away. It was crazy talk, but he was upset and that’s how he gets when things aren’t going his way.

If I win the championship this season, I have bigger problems to deal with than what suit to wear. If I win this season, I won’t be able to really enjoy it. Oh I’ll party all right. I’ll drink my head off and spray champagne and come back to the coach for lots of victory sex. But it’ll be bittersweet. The person you love is supposed to be up at the head table with you, sharing in the celebration. The person I love will be sitting somewhere in the audience while Chandra sits next to me, doing her best to look the part of adoring, loving wife. I’ll spend the entire ceremony looking out into the crowd, sharing longing glances with the one I love, while he slumps down in his seat and gets buzzed off the Budweiser that’s sure to be constantly flowing into his glass all night. It makes me want to cry, thinking that on the happiest night of my life, I won’t even be able to share it with the one person who really matters to me. No, sharing it with him will have to wait until we’re behind closed doors where no one can see us. Because god forbid the wrong person finds out about us.

We always play the “What if” game together. Dale and I lay around in bed some nights, just talking about what it’d be like to share a kiss in victory lane. What it’d be like if we could walk through the garage area holding hands like so many of the NASCAR couples do. Sometimes we can get away with it for a few minutes at a time, but then it starts to get crowded and fans start showing up and we have to let go and go our separate ways so we don’t draw any attention. Sometimes I want nothing more than to go over to him during a prerace interview and kiss him right in front of the cameras, wish him luck, pat him on the ass, and walk off to my car. It makes me sad that people who can do things like that without consequence take it fore granted.

If I win the championship this year, I’ll be the best champ I can. I’ll put on my tux, do up my tie just right, fix my hair and remain composed and professional the entire time. I’ll sit next to Chani and smile with her, convince everyone of how incredibly happy we are. I’ll thank Chad and Mr. Hendrick and Jeff and the fans. I’ll kiss ass to Lowes and my other sponsors. I’ll thank Mike Helton and Brian France and all the NASCAR officials. I’ll thank my family and friends and all the people who support me. I’ll look around the crowded room and thank my competitors for another amazing season of hard, respectful racing and I’ll let my eyes linger on Dale for a moment longer than necessary, hoping he can see in my eyes how badly I want him up there with me.

When I win that championship this year, I’m going to walk off stage and right into his waiting arms. I’m going to wrap myself around him, bury my face in his neck, and breathe in his scent for as long as I can. I’ll let him drag me back up to the hotel room so we can fuck on every available surface, then we’ll take a shower together, change into some party clothes and hit a club for some post-ceremony drinks and laughter. We’ll join up with our friends, the ones who’ve known about us since the beginning and loved us through it all, and we’ll get wasted and dance and make fools of ourselves in front of anyone around. As long as I have Dale on my arm, his hand in mine, everything will be ok. I’ll feel like a champion, like a man complete.

Because with Dale by my side, I’ll always be complete.


	20. He

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Completed: Circa 2007  
> Prompt: 84. He  
> Rating: PG-13

Sometimes it’s hard to believe how much has changed. A few years ago, I was just a kid riding his daddy’s coattails. I was the heir to a throne, the next in line to be a legacy. I partied hard, I fucked around, and I was the newest up-and-comer in NASCAR. I was a fresh face, a breath of fresh air, all that bullshit and more. I was Dale Earnhardt, Jr. and all eyes were on me. I had to be better than perfect. I had to smile for the cameras, thank my sponsors, and please everyone. I couldn’t afford to let anyone down. I refused to let anyone in. I hated meet and greets, and the thought of “settling down” was an abomination.

And then he came along.

I never admitted it to anyone, but I’ve known since I was a kid that I was into guys. Don’t get me wrong, I love women. Finding a hot chick and fucking her all night in every position imaginable is one of life’s greatest pleasures. One of my favorite things to do is watch a blonde or brunette or redhead bobbing up and down on my-

I’m getting off track. Point is, I like women. But guys have a certain appeal too. I blame it on military school. Showerin’ with all those guys, livin’ with them, dorming together, it takes its toll. So when he came along, I was definitely attracted. I ignored it, though. I always did. Couldn’t risk anyone finding out my one dirty secret.

Of course, one thing led to another and we hooked up. Random fucks turned into a relationship and we’ve been together going on five years now. He changed me in so many ways, mostly for the good. He made me into a man who suddenly knows what it feels like to be in love. To have someone love me back for all the right reasons. He loves me unconditionally, he trusts me no matter what, and he’ll never stop supporting me. Even when I fuck up or make a fool of myself. Especially when I’m falling apart or losing my mind.

He made me realize there’s more to life than beer, drugs, sex, and parties. He gives me a reason to come home every night. He makes me want to be a better person, for him and myself. Sometimes it’s hard to remember what life was like without him, because he’s been a part of it for so long now. The thought of being without him, even for a minute, kills me inside.

I can’t help but wonder what certain people would think if they knew. The posse don’t care. Jeff , BV, and Mears Gang don’t give a shit. His family treats me like one of their own. Kelley loves the fact that I’ve got someone keeping me in line. But what about Momma? How would Teresa react? Would the fans try and lynch us? Would our fellow drivers shun us?

Mostly I just wonder what my daddy would think. He was a good ol’ southern boy, just like me. We got our beliefs and faiths and morals, but unlike me I don’t know how accepting he’da been of my “alternative lifestyle”. God, could they come up with a lamer term for guys fucking guys? Ain’t nothing alternative about it, aside from us having the same equipment. I fuck him just as hard as any of the chicks I’ve nailed.

…there I go on a tangent again. I guess I just wonder if Daddy would look at me different if he knew. Hell, part of me thinks he already knew without my ever saying a word. He always was good at reading my mind. I like to think he’d have been happy for me for followin’ my gut no matter what anyone else said. He always told me he was most proud of me when I thought for myself.

The more I think about things, the more I know I made the right choice by letting myself get involved with him. No one else looked at me the way he does. I look in his eyes and I see myself looking right back. He once told me the same thing about mine. Jimmie’s my whole life and I’ll do whatever it takes to keep him in it.


	21. Treat for a Trick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rating: NC-17  
> Prompt: 86. Choices  
> Completed: 10/2006  
> Summary: A trick becomes a treat for Jimmie.

Jimmie pushed himself up off the couch as his doorbell rang for what seemed like the hundredth time since he’d gotten home from the shop. He grabbed the bowl of candy on the coffee table and made his way to the door. He’d gotten the good stuff this year: full sized candy bars and packs of starbursts; none of those “fun sized” candies. After all, what was so fun about a third of a candy bar? He pulled the door open and blinked in surprise. It wasn’t a group of costumed children with bags open and waiting, shouting, “Trick or Treat!” No, it was Dale Junior on his doorstep, clad in a Toga, his crown of leaves slightly askew on his head.

“Dale? What are you doing here? I thought you were hosting that costume party at the shop today,” Jimmie could smell the beer on Dale, knew he was at least buzzed.

“Party Shmarty! Who needs parties when there’s strangers givin’ out candy?” Dale lurched slightly, his speech slow and slightly slurred.

“Junior, you’re drunk. How’d you get here? You didn’t drive, did you?” Jimmie ushered Dale into the house, peaking by him to look for his car, but found no sign of it. When he turned back around, he spotted Dale sprawled out across the couch. He lay spread eagle, half passed out, and Jimmie unwillingly rook notice of the fact that his visitor had chosen to go commando. He bit his lip and shook his head slightly, trying to ignore the lower half of his friend’s body.

“Junior how did you get here?”

Dale grunted, looking up at him through half closed eyes, “Walked.”

Jimmie’s eyes went wide, “WALKED? You live like ten miles away!”

Dale sat up, suddenly stone cold sober, “Gotcha!”

“You’re a jackass.”

“You love me.”

“Hate you.”

“Lies.”

“What do you want from my life, Junior?”

“A good blowjob and a decent fuck would be nice.”

“Ok, seriously. How did you get here? I know you’d never say that sober.”

“My car’s behind the bushes. Only had two beers, Josh spilled his on me.”

“And at what point did you decide you needed to come over here and make my life miserable?”

“You’re hurtin’ my feelings here, Johnson! I thought you’d appreciate my company…maybe I should fuck you, bet you’d like me then.”

Jimmie slapped his forehead, “Get back to your party, Dale. They’re probably looking for you.”

Dale’s voice got dangerously low as he leaned forward a bit, “I saw you, y’know. Lookin’ at my cock when you thought I was drunk.”

Jimmie swallowed hard, backing up a bit, “N-no I wasn’t! Not on purpose anyway!”

Dale pushed himself up, following Jimmie as he backed himself to the wall, “Did you like what you saw, Jimmie? Did it make you hard, seein’ my cock? Make you wonder what it’d be like to get down on your knees and suck it?”

“I…” The Californian whimpered as Dale closed in on him, “I…but…”

A hand on either side of his head and a torso pressed flush against his made his pulse speed up. All the blood was flowing between his legs. Dale smirked knowingly as Jimmie tensed up, leaning in to whisper huskily into his ear, “Or maybe you’d like it if I shoved you down on all fours and fucked you from behind…let you feel my cock in your ass…would you like that, Jimmie?”

He could no longer form a coherent thought, let alone a sentence. His body was burning, heart racing, and all he could manage was a soft moan. Dale took that as his cue, slipping a hand between them to grope him roughly through his jeans. Jimmie’s body jolted, arching into his touch, “Dale…”

“Yes or no, Jimmieboy? Want me to fuck you right here on the living room floor? Down on all fours like a dirty slut?” The redhead’s grip on the bulge in his pants tightened, causing him to slam his head back against the wall.

“Yesss…god yes…please…fuck…”

Dale pulled back abruptly, “Ha! I KNEW it! I KNEW you wanted me! They all told me I was crazy, but I knew you did!”

Jimmie’s eyes went wide, a mixture of shock and hurt on his face, “…a bet? This was…was all part of some fucking BET?”

“Aw c’mon now, Jimmie! Don’t go gettin’ all bent outta shape about it. Just a little Halloween trick, you know how it is.”

“Get out.”

“What?”

“Get. Out. NOW.”

Dale flinched, “Jimmie, c’mon. Chill out-”

“DON’T fucking tell me to chill out, Earnhardt! Shit, I should fucking shove my dick down your throat for doing this to me!”

“You ain’t got the balls.”

“Oh no?”

In an instant, Dale was sprawled out on his back in the middle of the living room floor. Jimmie crawled over him, sitting on his chest to pin him down. Dale looked up at him, a mixture of fear and surprise in his eyes. A tiny smirk passed over Jimmie’s face as he traced a finger along Dale’s bottom lip. Dale turned his head away, struggling to get up.

“Jimmie this ain’t fuckin’ funny! You proved your point, now let me up!”

“Why should I? You’re the one that had the nerve to come over to MY house, turn ME on, and then humiliate me! Why shouldn’t I give you a taste of your own medicine?”

Dale swallowed hard, his normally flushed face turning an ashen color, “Wh-what’re you gonna do?”

“I already told you, Junebug. Going to shove my dick down your throat.”

“And what’s to stop me from biting it off?”

Jimmie snorted, trying to force down his laughter, “I’ll do the same to you.” He started unfastening his belt, popping open the button on his jeans. Dale’s eyes went wide and his mouth went dry as he watched Jimmie unzip his fly. This was definitely NOT part of the plan.

“Jimmie! Jimmie c’mon man! It really ain’t funny no more! I don’t wanna do this!” The wiry redhead squirmed beneath his captor but the struggle was in vain.

With a shit-eating grin on his face, Jimmie stood up suddenly, “Gotcha.”

It took a moment for Dale’s brain to register, but the second it did, he jumped up in a rage, “You son of a bitch!”

Jimmie didn’t even see Dale’s fist until it connected with his left eye. His head snapped back and he let out a yelp as he stumbled backwards, toppling onto the couch. Dale followed him, following up his left hook with several more hits, most of which made contact with Jimmie’s arms as he tried to defend himself.

“Dale! Chill out! I wasn’t- OW!”

Fist hit nose and the sickening crunch echoed through Jimmie’s ears. With strength neither of them knew he possessed, he shoved Dale to the floor and jumped up, making a mad dash to the bathroom. Dale pushed himself up and followed after him, leaning on the doorframe as he watched Jimmie baby his nose.

“It broke?”

“No, and you’re fucking lucky too!”

“Shit man, I’m sorry. You just got me so damn worked up, I couldn’t help myself.”

“You did the same to me but I didn’t try to break your nose!”

“You were gonna sodomize me!”

Both men stopped what they were doing and made eye contact for a split second before the humor of the situation hit them like a ton of bricks. They burst out laughing, holding their sides as they doubled over.

“Damn Ji-Jimmie! You really thought I’d-”

“Hey, you thought I-”

“Man this is one fucked up Halloween.”

“Tell me about it…I still think you’re a prick, though. You’ve done some crappy things before, but that was beyond low.”

“Aw hell, I’m sorry. I’ll get mine soon enough. I’ve been here so long everyone probably thinks I fucked you.”

“…would it really be that big a deal if you did?”

Dale’s eyes widened, “I ain’t no damn fag, Johnson. I don’t go around-”

“Chill, Dale. I just…sorry. That was a stupid thing to say. Just got back to your party and collect your winnings.”

“You really do want me, huh? You were seriously ready to let me take you, right there in the living room.”

“What difference does it make? Not like you’d ever follow through.”

“Well, hell. You’ve got me feelin’ so bad I might just give you a pity fuck. Or let you give me head.”

“Don’t do me any favors, Junior.”

The two walked back into the living room and collapsed onto the couch. Jimmie’s nose was swollen, Dale’s fist was sore. They sat in an uncomfortable silence for several minutes.

“…so I guess the rumors about you and Martin weren’t true then, huh?”

“Fuck you.”

“What?”

“Just fuck off.”

His voice softened, almost to the point of sympathy, “They WERE true, weren’t they? You two were together and he left you for Sherry…”

Their was venom in his response, eyes blazing, “Kinda like you left Jeff for Chandra.”

“…ouch.”

The two men exchanged a look from opposite ends of the couch. Dale frowned, playing with the tie of his toga. Jimmie watched him silently, contemplating his next move, “…you could fuck me, you know. It’d make him jealous.”

Dale looked back up in surprise, “Hell no! I already told you, I ain’t-”

“A fag. I heard you. But considering he hurt you as bad as he did, I’d say you’re lying to yourself. And I think you came over here half expecting or hoping for a quick fuck to ease the sting…and I’m more than willing to put out, Junior.”

“…you really want me that bad or is this just a pity thing?”

Jimmie scooted across the couch to him, straddling his lap, “I fucking want you, June. Were you not paying attention before? You had me begging for it. For you.”

As he spoke he grinded himself against him, taking pleasure in the soft whimpers Dale let out. He ran his fingers through Dale’s coppery hair, tugging his head to the side gently so he could trail kisses down his neck. Dale rested his hands on Jimmie’s hips, arching into his touch.

“Fuck…Jimmie, I ain’t into foreplay. You want me to fuck you, just say it.”

Jimmie pulled back and looked at Dale with lust-filled eyes, “Fuck me.”

In seconds, Dale had their clothes in a pile on the floor. He pushed Jimmie onto his knees so he was kneeling facing the back of the couch. He knelt behind him, his hands on his hips, “I ain’t got no lube..”

“Front pocket of my jeans.”

“Expecting to use it today?”

“Just never know when you’ll need it.”

“Fucking whore.”

“You know it.”

The tube popped open and Junior made quick work of slicking himself up. He knelt behind Jimmie again, nails digging into his skin as he eased himself in. Jimmie whimpered softly, pushing back against him, “Don’t need to be gentle.”

“Thanks for the memo.”

In one fluid motion, Dale pulled almost entirely out of him before thrusting back in, buried to the hilt. Jimmie gasped, moaning loudly as he arched against him. They quickly found a rough rhythm, the sounds of flesh on flesh and pleasure-filled grunts filling the room.

“God DAMN, Junior…” Jimmie gripped the couch tightly, grinding back against Dale with every thrust. A surprised gasp turned into a moan of ecstasy as a skilled hand wrapped around his cock, jerking him at pace with the rock hard cock thrusting into him.

“Mm…s’right Jimmie…tell me how much you like it…” Junior’s accent thickened as he come closer to coming, his voice husky with lust as his eyes darkened nearly to black.

“Fuck dale…fucking amazing…so close…” Jimmie’s body trembled, every nerve set on fire as Dale angled his thrusts, hitting his sweet spot over and over. The hand on his cock tightened, thumb running over his head, and one more well-aimed thrust sent him over the edge. Dale cursed loudly, shouting his release into the back of Jimmie’s neck. He buried himself inside the slender man, basking in the feel of his muscles tightening around him.

They collapsed against one another, tumbling across the couch in a pile of naked, sweaty flesh. Dale closed his eyes for a moment and Jimmie took the opportunity to study his friend’s face. Their eyes met when eyelids slid back up, smirks on both their faces.

“Gotta tell ya, Johnson. That’s the best treat I got for a Halloween trick in a long time.”


	22. Office Romance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: They say office romances ain't a good idea, but what about when the romance starts before the office is even involved?  
>    
> RATING: PG  
> PROMPT: 89 - Work  
> COMPLETED: 01/21/11  
> NOTE: This fic came to me after Mike Davis and TJ Majors both put up pictures of Junior signing autographs at the Fanfest in Daytona. His outfit seemed so out of character to me and this is what came of it.

_Daytona International Speedway  
Daytona, Florida_

They say office romances ain't a good idea, but what about when the romance starts before the office is even involved? What if you've got somethin' good goin' with someone and then suddenly you're working together? And then after you're working together and gettin' on good for a while, you're magically crammed into the same office space and now you're really together 24/7 because you live together and work together and your boss just decided it was time for a change and that you two would work well together? Are office romances still a bad idea then? How the hell do you deal with it? What do you do when your romance is suddenly in your office and it was never meant to be that way?

I don't got the answer to any of those questions, but I do know this: Jimmie and I have one hell of an office romance going and it's working out pretty awesome. It amazes me we ain't been caught yet, either. From the moment Rick let out the news that things were being shaken up at HMS, Jimmie and I done lost our minds. We've been together for years, practically common law by now, and suddenly our lives are entwined in every way humanly possible. He's part of the reason I decided to sign with HMS all those years ago, but to be in the same garage as him now? To be sharing teams and notes and all the intimate details of our careers together? It's fucking insane. I thought for sure the relationship was going to come to a screeching halt because we wouldn't be able to handle it…but it's been pretty amazing so far.

This weekend in Daytona is going to be the biggest trial of all. It used to be, we were at opposite ends of the track pretty much all weekend. Now here we are, crammed next to one another in the garage for information trading purposes and whatnot and we can't get away from one another. It ain't a bad thing in the negative sense, if that makes any sense at all. We love bein' together. We live together so we can spend as little time apart as possible, after all. But bein' this close to one another all day and not being able to touch one another? It's fuckin' hell on the heart. All damn day we've been near one another, within arms reach, and we gotta keep our distance. Mike does a damn good job of keeping between us or occupying me so I don't have time to make a fool of us, but it's still rough. Been keeping up the charades for years now but it never gets easier. The longer we're together, the harder it is to put the front up. Especially after an off season of not having to hide because we're off on some distant island where no one knows us. 

The media center today was the hardest of all. They were callin' in the boys two by two and as fate would have it, Jimmie and I were called up together. I hung back while he went up to talk. People were giving me funny looks, wantin' to know why I wasn't sittin' with my teammate, but I just fiddled with my gloves and made myself look busy while he talked. My heart did funny little twists and flops when he talked about my daddy. It always gets me goin' anytime I hear someone mention him, but when the words are coming from Jimmie they just ring so much differently. He never really got to know my daddy, but he knows how much the man meant to me. He was there to see me fall apart ten years ago when we lost him. He's been around every year since to help pick up the pieces when it gets to be too much for me. Hearin' him talk about my daddy just makes it that much more special to me, I guess.

When it was my turn to get in the hot seat, I was a lot calmer and cooler than in years past. Things just feel so much different this time around. I feel like we finally got somethin' right with Stevie and the new guys. I feel like everyone's on the same page and we all got somethin' to prove, and it's the same somethin' for all of us. We all want it bad; to win, to make the chase, to sit at the head table in December. Steve ain't no wet-behind-the-ears rookie. He knows what he's doing, he knows how HMS runs, and he knows damn well what I'm needin' to make my half of this deal work. We've had weeks of heart to hearts ever since we found out we'd be workin' together. Not only are we on the same page, but we're readin' the same sentence. I always hate gettin' my hopes up but right now I know everything's gonna be okay.

Once all the hooplah was over for the day and I could go back to livin' my life, Jimmie and I snuck off to our coach for some one on one time. Soon as the season starts we know damn well the constant canoodling on the couch is going to come to a screeching halt because of obligations. It's already starting to happen, what with all the new commercials we're shooting, the photo sessions for the publicity stills, not to mention the interviews with every media scum this side of the Atlantic. Pretty soon it's gonna be go-go-go all the time and we'll barely have a moment to breathe, let alone curl up together in bed and relax for a couple hours. We'll take it where and when we can get it, but for right now we’re just trying to enjoy what little time we got left before the circus starts up again.

We had several hours between testing and the Fanfest event so we trudged off to the coach, I made us some dinner, and then we collapsed onto the couch for some quality time. Of course, we'd been goin' so long and so fast all day that the moment we touched down on the cushy sofa, we were passed out hard. To think there was a time we could barely stand to be dressed around one another. Lately we're turnin' into a damn old married couple, passin' out watchin' TV and whatnot. We still got one hell of a sex life, but lately it seems like we're too lazy or too tired to prove it. It's one of them slumps I'm always hearin' people bitch and moan about and I know we'll snap out of it soon enough but for right now I just don't got the energy to deal with it. This time of year is always rough on both of us and we know damn well the lack of sex ain't gonna last long. Hell, one of us wins the Shootout or a Duel, or the 500 for that matter, and it'll be right back to 24/7 nudity faster'n we can blink.

Mike bangin' on the door jolted us both out of a sound sleep and up into action so fast we barely had time to make heads and tails of what we were doin'. Davis is one hell of a friend, but even more so he's the greatest PR guy I ever worked with. The man's on top of his game and he knows how to get my ass in gear better'n anyone I've ever met, aside from my sister, of course. Under his watchful, amused eye, the two of us scurried around like headless chickens trying to get ready. We were out the door in no time at all, trying not to look like flustered zombies on the way to the Fanfest. Mike kept chuckling to himself but whatever had him goin', he wasn't sharing. It wasn't until I was signing autographs for a small army of fans that I figured out what was so damn funny. 

While a young boy around eight or nine was shoving a diecast in my hand and smiling shyly under his mom's watchful eye, TJ let out a chuckle and snapped off a picture of me, no doubt for his stupid twitter. I glanced over at him out of the corner of my eye and asked what was so damn funny. With a wink and an amused tone he asked when I traded in my Adidas for Chuck Taylors. Confused and somewhat annoyed at the amount of my friends suddenly snapping cell phone pictures of me from my side of the table, I asked what in the hell he was talking about. Before he could answer though, I realized what he meant. A glance down confirmed it for me: I'd somehow managed to grab a pair of Jimmie's Converse in the scuffle to get out the door on time. Mike and TJ burst into laughter as my face turned white hot, all the blood rushing into my cheeks. No doubt, Jimmie was standing around somewhere in a pair of my custom Adidas, completely oblivious to what we’d done.

They say office romances are a bad idea, but I say to hell with 'em all. If me and Jimmie have managed to go this long under the radar, then I don't give a shit what they say. We'll just keep provin' 'em wrong until there's nothin' left to prove.


	23. Please?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Completed: 10/10/2005  
> Prompt: 91 - Birthday  
> Rating: G  
> Summary: A quick ficlet of birthday banter between Jimmie and Dale.

“I really wish the damn phone would stop ringing. Between the race and today, it seems like everyone on the planet has been calling my damn cell phone!”

“Babe, it’s your birthday. What do you expect? Your friends just want-”

“My friends just want an excuse to get drunk off free alcohol and use my house as party central again.”

“And your family? I’m sure they-”

“My family only calls because they feel obligated. Aside from Kelley, they don’t give a shit.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“You’re being annoyingly optimistic.”

“Gee thanks. Then I guess I’ll just take back your gift, seeing as I felt OBLIGATED to get it. Not because I care about you or anything.”

“Fine go ah- wait. You got me a gift? Dammit, I told you not to get me anything this year!”

“When has that EVER stopped me?”

“…good point. So…”

“So?”

“What’d you get me?”

“Nope. Returning it. You didn’t wait anything, remember?”

“But…but…”

“No buts. You didn’t want it, you’re not getting it.”

“That’s not fair!”

“Oh my god, are you turning twelve?”

“You suck.”

“Quite well, I’ve been told.”

“I hate you.”

“You love me.”

“No I don’t.”

“Mhmm. And I’m the Easter bunny.”

“Why must you torture me like this?”

“You brought it on yourself.”

“Did not.”

“Here we go again.”

“Please?”

“Please what?”

“Can I have my gift?”

“What gift?”

“My birthday present.”

“I didn’t get you one. You didn’t want anything.”

“But-”

“You’re impossible, you know that? It’s in the basement.”

“I love you.”

And there in the basement, shining in all its glory, was the CastAway pinball machine Junior had been eying weeks earlier. He squeals with delight, wraps Jimmie in a bear hug, and proceeds to play until the house starts to fill with friends and family, none of whom feel obligated to be there. Jimmie smiles, knowing that no matter what Junior said, he’s loving every second of his birthday.


	24. Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: 92 - Christmas  
> Completed: 12/2005  
> Rating: PG  
> Summary: Dale thinks about the present he really wants for Christmas

I hate this time of year. I hate every damn thing about it, from the tree in the corner covered in tinsel to the boxes stuffed under it in bright, shiny paper. I hate how the family comes over and pretends to be happy to see one another. I hate how, even at 31, my grandmother still feels the need to pinch my cheeks when she greets me. I hate the smell of ham roasting in the oven and watching the younger kids drop their food on the floor because they don’t like it. I hate how the teenaged cousins cling to me all damn day, bugging the hell out of me to get them beer or to take them for a ride because they’re as miserable as I am. I hate how the house reeks of cigarette smoke, even though no one’s supposed to be smoking inside. Mostly, I hate the fact that I can’t spend the day with the one person I truly would enjoy the holiday with.

Merry fuckin’ Christmas, indeed Junior. Another year down the drain, another senseless night of passing out gifts that aren’t even a surprise because your mother and sisters and brother and stepmother all gave you a list with exactly what they wanted on it. Ho, ho, fuckin’ ho, watch as they unwrap the boxes and gush and tell me I shouldn’t have and ask me how I knew. One of these days, I’ll give up on Christmas with the family. I’ll grow a pair and tell them I have something better to do and not show up. Yeah, that’ll be the day. Knowing the women in my family, everyone would show up at my house.

I remember when I used to like Christmas. I used to love waking up on Christmas morning, pulling Kelley down the stairs with me as she was half asleep, screaming at Daddy and Teresa to wake up so we could see what Santa had left us. I can remember the smile on Daddy’s face as I tore into my gifts at lightning speed, genuinely happy for whatever I received. I can remember jumping into his lap and throwing my arms around his neck in a childish version of the bear hug he had perfected, thanking him for everything. I can remember thinking that even if there were no presents under the tree, I’da still been happy on Christmas morning because Christmastime meant Daddy didn’t have to leave every weekend and I could spend some time with him.

After Daddy died…hell, all the holidays lost some of their meaning. To me the holidays were always about being with my family. Havin’ Daddy right there by my side to share the good times with. We’d go hunting, we’d take walks in the woods together, we’d sit out back with some beers and talk. Holidays meant Daddy would be around more often, and even when I was a kid, I knew how important it was to cherish every moment. I clung to my Daddy like he was the air I was breathing when the family got together. Everywhere he went, I went. If he was sittin’ I was on his lap. If he was standing I was on his feet. When I got older I’d still cling to him, commandeering the chair next to his, leaning on the mantel next to him as he talked to his Momma. That’s how it was supposed to be, me and my Daddy. Sharin’ the holidays.

Then Daytona happened, and well…

If Jimmie hadn’t been there that first Christmas, I don’t think I’d have made it through. We’d been together for around ten months by the time Christmas showed up on the doorstep, and I was real tore up over it. The first Christmas without my Daddy since I was a baby. I didn’t know what to do with myself aside from swallow around the lump in my throat and blink back tears. For nearly a month before Christmas, every time I was out gift shopping I’d start looking at things and thinking, “Daddy’d like that for Christmas” and then it’d dawn on me that there wouldn’t be a Christmas for Daddy that year. I would lose it every time. I’d go running into the nearest bathroom, lock myself in a stall, and just bawl my eyes out until I was able to recompose myself. Jimmie was with me on one of those disaster-sprees. He somehow managed to get into the stall with me and held onto me as I let loose a wash of tears the world ain’t never seen before.

Jimmie. That’s where I’d really like to be right now. Unlike my family, his family knows about us. They accept us and they’ve welcomed me into their little world with open arms. Every last aunt, uncle, and cousin considers me one of the family. They really are like the Cleavers, in some respects. It always amazes me at just how laid back and west coast they are. I grew up around down home southern boys. Real rednecks with real agendas that fly the rebel flag with pride and like to use profane words when referring to other races or sexual orientation. Jimmie refuses to believe it, but I think my family would disown me if they knew I was gay. Then they’d go lynch Jimmie for corrupting me.

I excuse myself from the dinner table, having suddenly lost my appetite, and steer through the dining room toward the sliding glass doors that lead out onto my grammaw’s deck. Slide them open, step outside, pull them closed behind me. I walk off to the side where I can go unnoticed and lean forward against the railing. It’s cold out, damn cold, and I don’t have anything on aside from a t-shirt and jeans. Momma always gets mad at me for not dressin’ up for the holidays, but I don’t damn well see the point. I shiver slightly in the frigidness, letting out a deep sigh that I can see floating up into the sky. It’s quiet out, the ground covered in a blanket of snow that soaks up the usual country echoes you normally hear in the still of the night. The muffled sounds of the Earnhardt Christmas drift through the air, breaking the peace in the silence. I listen for a moment as Aunt Carol tells a story to someone about something her daughter did in school. With a roll of my eyes, I walk off the deck and out into the yard, pulling my phone from my pocket. Dial the familiar number and put the phone to my ear as it rings.

After two…one and a half…rings, he picks up and his voice makes my heart flutter. My mood starts to lift just a tiny bit and the faintest of smiles passes over my face, “Dale? Baby, you there?”

I’d been so lost in his voice I forgot to answer, “I’m here, Jimmie. Just…you know how it is.”

“Yeah…yeah I do. Are you leaving soon? My parents have been asking for you all night, mom has a gift she wants to give you.”

The smile widens and I shake my head slightly. It’s just like Cathy to go and think of me when she’s out shopping for her boys, “Soon, baby. I promise. I think I’m gonna start sayin’ my goodbyes, soon as I hang up with you.”

There’s a hint of laughter in his voice and when I close my eyes I can picture the lopsided grin on his face, the one that makes his puppy dog brown eyes widen and light up, “Then by all means, hang up and get that cute ass of yours over here.”

“Alright, I’m goin’. I’ll see you in a half hour, tops.”

“Not a minute later, y‘hear?”

“Yeah, I hear,” I start back for the house, “I love you.”

“I love you too, June.”

I blush at the name that he’s picked for me. So many people call me June I’ve lost count, but it’s the way he says it. I can’t explain it, but every time he calls me June my face turns red. We say our goodbyes and I flip my phone closed as I push open the sliding door. Slip the phone back into my pocket and announce to the room in general that I have to get going. A cloud of groans and pouty voices rise up to greet me but I roll my eyes and make my way around the room to say my individual goodbyes to everyone. Once I manage to pull myself away, I grab my coat from the closet and slide it on, giving everyone a final wave and shout a “Merry Christmas!”

It’ll be a merry Christmas, alright. Soon as I get to Jimmie. Merry Christmas, indeed Junior. Merry Christmas, indeed.


	25. All the Fixin's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Thanksgiving with the Earnhardts  
> Completed: 12/22/2008  
> Rating: G  
> Prompt: 93 - Thanksgiving

"Pass the potatoes, please!"

"Ow, stop kicking me!"

"Don't feed broccoli to the dog!"

"Stop kicking your sister!"

"Someone say grace!"

"GRACE!"

"Very funny, Jeffrey!"

Thanksgiving with the Earnhardts is always eventful; Roasted turkey, fresh from a hunt; sweet potatoes, mashed potatoes, all kinds of fresh veggies; ten different pies, cookies, ice cream. Enough to feed a small army, and they're close to being one. Aunts, Uncles, cousins, nieces and nephews, brothers and sisters, Martha heading it all up. How she manages to bring order to this chaos is beyond me. Takes some kind of southern patience and charm to take it all like she does. I love spending holidays with his family as much as I love celebrating them with my own. I've never felt like an outsider with them, not even the first one, so many years ago. It was their first Thanksgiving without Dale, the first holiday season with that unmentionable missing piece. It'd been hard and I'd tried to convince Junior that I’d had no place being there, no right to be a part of it, but he insisted on it. When Junior insists on something, there's no turning him down.

I feel a hand on mine under the table and smile softly, looking to my left. Junior's wedged between myself and his nephew, Jeffrey, hoovering down turkey like it's going out of style. He eats like he's just come home from prison, my mom once said, and it's true. It's like he's afraid someone's going to pull the plate away before he can finish. Which is just plain ridiculous because you can't eat more than a forkful at this table before someone is refilling your plate and telling you to have seconds and thirds. I smile softly and turn my hand over, twining my fingers through his. We've mastered the art of eating one handed.

"Jimmie, duck!" Kelley lets out a shout from my right, but she's too late. Before I can duck my head, I'm nailed in the temple with a dinner roll. Everyone laughs, including me, and Junior picks up the kamikaze bread off the table, taking a bite out of it.

"No throwing food at my table or I'll banish you to the living room with the kids!" Martha waves a wooden spoon meant for scooping mashed potatoes at her grandkids, giving them a menacing glare, and I can't keep a smile off my face. She really is the glue that holds this family together. 

"Sorry, meemaw," Kelley and Junior chorus before going back to their meals. They'd never dream of disrespecting their grandmother. I give Junior's hand a squeeze as I go back to my meal, settling in as the rest of the family eats around me. We're not a secret to them, and I'm forever grateful that they've all accepted Junior and I with unwavering support. His family amazes me more and more every day.

"Momma, Kennedy spilled her sundrooooooooooop!" Karsyn's shrill cry cuts through the dinnertime conversation and at least half the women at the table jump up to do damage control. Kerry shakes his head and continues to eat, muttering something about putting plastic on the floor next year. I'm pretty sure he says that every year, but it's yet to happen.

"Jimmie, when do y'all have to leave for New York?" Tony Eury, Senior looks at me expectantly from across the table, "Got a busy week coming up, huh?"

Junior tenses a little at the question and I hold in a sigh. He hates the city with a passion and the last two years have been no picnic, "Sunday morning, I think…have a media blitz Monday…All kinds of insanity lined up."

"They oughta just move the damn banquet to Charlotte," Junior grumbles, spearing a piece of turkey somewhat violently. I cringe, wondering if he's picturing my face on his plate.

"Junior don't be a grump," it's one of his aunts, Cathy I think, who scolds him, and I shoot her a grateful look. This is one conversation better left for home. It's bad enough we have to argue about this at all, let alone in front of his family. It's been even worse this year, because he was so damn close to being a part of it with me. Crap luck screwed everything up and now he's even more cranky about spending a week in the city with me than usual. I feel bad, but it still burns that he won't even just pretend to be happy for me.

"So, plans for the off season?" Kelley gives us a curious look, knowing full well Junior's been planning a vacation for us since the summer. Her attempt to change the subject and lighten the mood works; in seconds, Junior's babbling on and on about the trip we're taking to Mexico. First Cancun, then Cabo, and finally Mexico City to meet up with Jeff and Ingrid for a few days. We're both looking forward to this vacation. It's much needed and well deserved. I smile warmly as his fingers find mine again and squeeze them gently, his silent way of saying "I love you". Lean over to kiss his cheek and his face turns scarlet beneath his nearly full-grown beard. He looks like a mountain man, but I love it.

The table falls into a peaceful quiet as everyone eats and enjoys the moment. It's not often we can all get together like this, so I know we're all grateful for tonight. Grateful for friends and family, good food, and the comfort of knowing we've always got one another to depend on. It's days like this that make it easy to understand why Junior's such a homebody. Who would want to roam off when everything you could ever want or need is right under your nose?


	26. Sin City Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Jimmie and Dale have a secret getaway meet up.  
> Rating: NC17  
> Completed: Circa 2006  
> Prompt: 95 - Rendevouz

Las Vegas. The city of sin. I've been here so many times, but every time it's better than the time before. That's probably why I keep coming back here. It's probably why I keep coming back to the same hotel with the same person on my arm, again and again.

Although, it could also have to do with the fact that this is the only place I can come to without getting a second glance for walking into a hotel lobby with a guy on my arm and not a woman. Most people are too drunk to notice and the sober ones have no idea who we are anyway. If they do, they do a good job of hiding it. That's just the way I like it.

If anyone back at the track knew where I went on my days off, and who I went there with...they'd excommunicate us. Which is why I always sigh in relief when I get back to the real world and everyone asks me how my grandmother's doing, then tease him about spending more time on the honeymoon than in the garage.

Jimmie always blushes a magnificent shade of red when they do that to him. He knows the same thing I do. He knows that if anyone found out we were fucking, we'd get left behind in the dust without so much as a second thought. So we both try to keep things under wraps. Not even Jeff knows about us, and he thinks he knows everything there is to know about his protégé.

If Jeff ever found out that Jimmie was fucking me, he'd probably die. More from laughing than from anything else because he's known me longer than most people around here and it would be weird. He'd probably start poking fun at me, telling me how much of a field day he could have over at DEI, telling everyone that their star is fucking the enemy behind closed doors.

It's kind of funny because most people think Jimmie and Jeff have some sort of secret love affair. Jimmie and I don't mind much because it makes it easier for the two of us to get together all the time without worrying too much. Even Chandra thinks all those nights when Jimmie sneaks out he's going to Jeff's coach. Sometimes I wonder what she'd say if she knew the truth.

I'm ripped from my thoughts by a husky, lust-filled voice in my ear, accompanied by a hand in the back pocket of my pants, groping at me none-too-inconspicuously, "What's on your mind, sexy?"

I smirk and turn to press my lips against the ones that had been brushing against my ear, "Wouldn't you like to know..."

"Oh I would," His hand moves from my back pocket to the fly of my jeans and he slowly starts to unbutton them with a tiny smirk on his face.

"We're still in the casino Jimmie, chill." I push his hand away and wrap my arm around his waist, kissing and sucking on his neck as we walk to the elevators.

All around us, thousands of people sit at various slot machines and poker tables, winning and losing money. Although, they're probably losing far more than they're winning. I can see hundreds of completely intoxicated people wandering around looking for a good place to get more drinks, or find their next fuck buddy for the night. Just outside the doors, hookers and their pimps are handing out cards and catalogues of the "finest escorts in Nevada". I smirk to myself as I think that out of everyone on the strip, I have the best lay any of them could ever dream of.

The elevator dings as the doors slide open and we step in, hitting the button for our floor. As soon as the doors are completely closed he pounces me, shoving me back against the wall and pins me there with his entire body. I gasp and moan into his mouth as he starts to grind against me, the bulge in my jeans growing quickly. He moves his lips lower, sucking hard on the curve of my neck as his hands move to my waist and I let my head fall to the side as I practically melt into the wall.

When the elevator doors open a moment later, we're greeted with a magnificent shriek and both of us look up to see a family of five staring at us with mixed emotions. The parents, two uptight looking adults who look to be in their late 40's, are glaring at us and covering the eyes of the younger two children, who look about 12 and 8. The older kid, who must be about 17, is smirking and holding in his laughter. Jimmie and I smirk and walk by them with a smug, "How are you?" before running down the hall in gut-wrenching laughter.

Once we reach the room, our giddiness dies down and the lust from earlier comes back tenfold. As I struggle to open the door, Jimmie presses himself against me from behind, attacking my neck with kisses as his hands rub my sides, one hand dipping down to grope me some more. I moan and bang my head on the door as I struggle to get the card into the slot. After several failed attempts I manage to push the door open and we tumble into the room, the door clicking closed behind us with a satisfying bang.

"Get naked and get on that bed before I get violent," he growls at me, his dark eyes intense and locked on mine.

I waste no time in obeying his orders, pulling my clothes off, then tugging his off as well. Once we're completely naked I walk over to the bed and crawl onto it, turning over to lie on my back and stare up at him. I love it when he looks at me like that, with complete lust and need.

He stalks over to the bed, climbing on top of me before kissing me hard and rough. His tongue slides out to meet mine as he pins me down on the bed, grinding his own erection against mine. We both moan at the contact and I lift my hips up a little to meet his motions, pressing harder against him.

"Jimmie, fuck me already. Stop with the teasing," I plead, lifting my eyes to meet his.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" He replies with a smirk, grinding against me some more, "You'd like it if I fucked your brains out right about now..."

"Jimmie I swear to god if your dick isn't in me in the next minute I'M going to get violent!" I snap at him, loving the look of shock that passes over his face. I'm normally not this forceful when we come to Vegas, but I'm normally not this damn horny either.

"Well maybe I should fuck you then…" He presses the head of his cock against me and starts to press into me. Never in all the times we've been together has he ever been gentle, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

"Do it," I growl at him, "Fuck me Jimmie."

With that he thrusts into me, stretching me as he wastes no time in fucking me senseless. I groan loudly as he hooks my legs over his shoulders and angles into me so he's hitting my sweet spot, my hips bucking up to meet him. We've been teasing each other all night, for four hours at least, and all of the sexual tension has been building up to this very moment. I grab onto his arms and dig my nails into him as he continues to slam into me, moaning and writhing beneath him as my eyes drift shut.

They snap open again a moment later as he wraps a hand around my dick and starts stroking me quickly in time with his thrusts, squeezing me tight. I gasp and let out a shout as he picks up the pace, "Fuck Jimmie...don't fucking stop!"

He smirks down at me with those hazy, lust-filled eyes and I lose it. I gasp as my entire body tenses up and then begin trembling as my orgasm hits me hard. I moan his name as my hips grind against him, my hand moving over his to make him go faster as my release sprays over his fingers. He gasps and bites down on his lower lip as he comes, continuing to thrust into me as he fills me, my muscles milking him to the last drop.

"Holy fuck," he moans with a grunt as he lets himself collapse on top of me, my legs falling numbly onto the mattress.

"Close enough," I murmur back, lifting my clean hand to run my fingers through his hair.

We lay on the bed for a while, tangled together in a sweaty mess. The night was already halfway over, but the weekend had only just begun.


	27. Victory of Multitudes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Victory Lane has never felt so good.  
> RATING: PG  
> PROMPT: 96. Author’s Choice - Celebration  
> COMPLETED: 04/21/11

   
 _Talladega SuperSpeedway  
Talladega, AL_    
   
  Victory has never been so sweet, and it’s not even mine. My heart swells with pride, my face hurts from smiling, and my entire body trembles with barely contained joy. I didn’t win – hell, I didn’t even come in second – but it doesn’t matter. Today’s victory isn’t about me. Today’s victory is about us. We worked so hard all day for this. We were committed from the word “go” and it paid off. He’s in victory lane and everyone is thanking me for it. It’s his win, but deep down I know it’s mine as well.

“Junior, next one’s on us, buddy!” Chad’s voice in my ear brings me back to the present and my grin widens. I can’t wait to get to victory lane. I can’t wait to celebrate with the love of my damn life.

I’m out of the car in record time, a huge spring in my step. All I can think about is seeing him, celebrating with him. I’m so lost in thought that I don’t even realize he’s beside me until he’s calling my name. I stick my head in the window of his car and the moment our eyes meet, I practically explode. I grab his hand, fighting the overwhelming urge to plant a kiss on him right here and now. His eyes are smoldering, burning right into my soul.

“Congrats, man!” I play it up for all the cameras and looky-loos, “Awesome race, that was fun as hell!”

“I want you to have this,” Jimmie holds out his flag to me, “You earned it, June.”

My face flushes at his pet name for me, even as I shake my head no, “Nah, man. That’s yours.”

His voice hardens, eyes narrowing at me in a way that has my stomach doing excited little flip-flops, “Flag or the trophy, Junior. It’s your choice. This win is as much yours as it is mine.”

“Alright, alright, geez. Get to Victory Lane already, will ya?” I take the flag and squeeze his hand again, throwing him a wink and a good natured smile. This flag is going in our trophy case in our office in our house. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

“See ya there, June,” He squeezes back before taking off, revving the engine the whole way. I watch him go, bursting at the seams with pride and joy, the flag clutched tightly in my hands.

By the time I make it to victory lane, Jimmie’s already out of the car and dripping with God only knows what. He’s in the middle of an interview so I try to remain inconspicuous, but it’s like he has radar. He stops midsentence and bolts over to me, wrapping me in a hug that I happily return.

“I love you, June. I love you so much. Today was perfect, it was a dream come true,” he lets go after a moment and I can see the tears in his eyes.

“Same here, Peaches,” I give his shoulder a squeeze before letting him go, painfully aware of all the eyes on us. The real celebration will happen in the privacy of our coach, but this moment will forever be etched into our minds. We’re finally out in the open and nobody knows it but us. Nearly a decade of hiding and sneaking around and now here we are, embracing in victory lane. This one moment is all we ever wanted, all we ever dreamed of. We’ve finally got our moment in the sun and no one can take it away from us


End file.
